


Beau Ideal

by Gweezle



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Blame Hugh Dancy's perfect face, Blow Jobs, First time with a man, Hannibal is smitten, Happy Murder Family, M/M, Murder Husbands, Mutilation, References to Rape/Assault, Rimming, There's just so much smut!, Torture, Uh...Happy Ending at least?, Well the tags went dark real quick, Will is sassy as always, Will is turned on by Hannibal's murderous ways
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-21
Updated: 2016-05-24
Packaged: 2018-06-09 21:07:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 21,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6923398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gweezle/pseuds/Gweezle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Still reeling from Garret Jacob Hobbs' death, Will Graham is called in to investigate the murder of a male model. While visiting the modelling agency, Beau Ideal, details of his past connection to the company are revealed, and he finds himself reevaluating his career choices, as well as his feelings towards a certain psychiatrist.</p><p>A.K.A. Will Graham used to be a model back in college. Hannibal Lecter cannot deal with the pretty.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, guys! I am back to give you all your monthly dose of Hannigram!
> 
> You can thank Tumblr for this one. More specifically, you can thank WarpedChyld and Granpappy-Winchester for reblogging all those pictures of Hugh Dancy from his modelling days. I don't have a problem. I only downloaded about thirty of them...for _research!_
> 
> Other research I did: looking up modelling lingo (there's lingo for every career, trust me), and reading through a blog written by an actual model for insider tips. Lesson learned: I would hate it. Any job that requires me to wear a thong or learn how to apply eyeliner is one I have zero interest in doing.
> 
> So, without further ado, here's chapter one!

“I think it’s the Ripper.”

Will Graham didn’t react at first, giving the sign in front of the towering building a disgruntled look. _Beau Ideal._ He knew the place well.

They were in Washington D.C., barely a half hour drive from Wolf Trap. The short commute was perhaps the _only_ reason he bothered to come at all.

“Were any organs taken?”

Jack Crawford – head of the Behavioural Sciences Unit – shook his head reluctantly.

“But,” he added. “Two ribs were surgically removed. I just want to be sure.”

Will almost turned around. He didn’t want to be there, especially after what happened the week before. Abigail Hobbs – the Minnesota Shrike’s daughter – was still comatose. It didn’t look good for her, and he wanted to be there if _(when)_ she passed.

He knew these paternal feelings weren’t his own, just a by-product of getting too close to Garret Jacob Hobbs, but the knowledge didn’t stop them from overwhelming him.

“I know this is difficult for you,” Jack said, trying to be soothing, yet failing miserably, “but this is the second body to turn up here in the last six months. The first was ruled an accident, but now that’s coming into question.”

Meaning that there could be a new serial killer blooming right under their noses, and Jack wanted him to catch the scent before a third body was found.

Will shut his eyes, wishing he was at home with his dogs. The cracks in his psyche were already forming. He could visualize them like broken lines along the inside of his skull. Sometimes he thought they resembled antlers.

Maybe he needed a new distraction to rid himself of Hobbs for good.

He gave in with a sigh. “Alright, Jack, I’ll take a look.”

Jack nodded. “If it makes you feel any better, you won’t be looking alone.”

Will didn’t like the sound of that. A moment later, he spotted a familiar car in the parking lot behind a few police cruisers. He couldn’t help his instinctive grimace as Hannibal Lecter stepped out of his Bentley and approached them.

“Have you heard anything about Abigail?” he blurted out before he could stop himself.

Hannibal didn’t take offence at the lack of a proper greeting, merely smoothing down his paisley tie absently as he took in his surroundings. “Her condition remains unchanged. The nurses assured me that they would call if anything happens.”

Will looked away. “Someone should be with her.” He clenched his fists, enraged by the unfairness of it all. If he’d just gotten there a _minute_ sooner.

“I plan to visit her after we finish here, however I felt my abilities would be better served by assisting you here.”

Translation: Hannibal was feeling helpless and wanted to distract himself by aiding Will on this new case. Part of him wondered if Hannibal _knew_ he would be eager to move on to the next one.

For a moment, Will considered apologizing, but he didn’t want to drag this out any longer. He just wanted to finish this and go home. Getting _friendly_ with Dr. Lecter wasn’t high on his list of priorities.

“Let’s just get this over with,” he grumbled.

Jack led them down the corridors, passed the dressing rooms to the main hall where the photoshoots took place.

The room was crawling with CSIs, as well as Katz, Price, and Zeller. Katz gave him a friendly wave, and he nodded in return.

Will stood in the middle of the room for a moment, taking in the familiar sights. The stage was barren, overhead lights blaringly white. His head was already pounding. In the corner were several couches, all filled with tearful models, most of whom were barely out of their teens. A few investigators appeared to be asking questions. One of the older male models put his arm around the girl beside him, offering her some comfort.

A part of him wanted to go over there and help, but he knew he’d probably say the wrong thing and make everything worse. He always did.

Finally, he made himself look at the body.

Male, about twenty, though it was hard to tell with all the makeup. He sat under the lights of the photo studio for all to see, leaning against the blank wall, posed with one leg stretched straight out, the other tucked toward his chest. His hands were tied together with a length of rope wrapping around his ankle to keep it from moving. His head was tilted to the side, eyes wide and clouded with death, lips parted. A rope around his neck was the only thing that kept him from toppling over.

Will stepped closer, taking it all in. The makeup was clearly applied by a professional – a light foundation, silky rose blush, eyes lined with black, and long lashes accentuated with mascara, no clumps to be seen. A nude lipstick was used to make his lips shine. Patches of foundation dotted his arms, no doubt covering up bruises from the struggle. He noted a single raised bump in the crook of his elbow, possibly from an injection.

His eyes trailed down the man’s chest, landing on the dark red corset wrapped around his unnaturally thin waist. Below that was a pair of matching red, silk briefs that left little to the imagination. The position of the model’s leg saved him some dignity at least. A red sequined scarf was draped around his neck, hiding the noose from view.

“Alright, clear out!” Jack shouted, startling him.

The investigators rushed to obey, shepherding the tearful models out the door as well until only Jack, Hannibal, and himself remained.

“Would you prefer if Dr. Lecter and I left as well?” he asked, once again trying to be soothing.

Will looked away. “Yeah, I just need a few minutes.”

The moment he felt them exit the room, he relaxed, removing his glasses and opening his mind.

The pendulum swung. Again. Again. Taking away the clothing, the makeup, the ropes, until only a twitching, whimpering young man was laid out in front of him.

 _“You don’t understand what I hope to achieve, otherwise you wouldn’t have fought so hard,” he whispers. “I’m going to make you look_ magnificent. _”_

_He approaches, runs his hands along the model’s ribs. “There’s just something we need to do first.” He picks up a scalpel, and the model, finally succumbing to either drugs or fear, passes out._

_“I slice under both sides of the ribcage, through the abdominal cavity. I’ve practiced a hundred times. I know what I’m doing. The bone saw carves the bottom two ribs out. I remove them, and sew the body back up, washing the blood away. This has to be_ perfect. _”_

_The corset is adorned, making the man’s figure resemble something more feminine. He has such a pretty face._

_The makeup is easy. Routine. Posing the body is slightly more difficult, but once it’s done, he looks_ _**beautiful.**_

Good enough.

Will came back to himself slowly, clenching his hands which felt slick with blood.

He cursed under his breath, rubbing at his aching eyes. He just wanted to give Jack his profile and leave. Maybe he’d drop by the hospital for a quick visit.

After a moment, Jack returned. Will gave him a nod to bring everyone back inside, and soon the room was once again teeming with people, though the models had been relocated to a corpse-free zone to better question them.

“Alright, what did you get?” Jack asked brusquely. Hannibal stood just behind him, carefully observing while trying not to be intrusive.

Will averted his eyes as he recited what he’d learned. “He’s an older man, and he’s been in the business a long time. He’s obsessed with beauty in human form, and wants to preserve it by any means necessary. He doesn’t consider himself attractive, and some part of him is resentful towards those who are, but he mostly feels adulation for them.”

He cleared his throat, eyes sweeping over the room. “He’s targeting this company because it represents everything he loves and hates. Maybe the first time was an accident, but now he’s found a way to express himself. I think he’s going to try again, maybe in six months, but probably a lot sooner.”

Jack frowned. “Is that all you can give me?”

Will sighed. “He’s single, or at the very least he’s never had a serious relationship. He’s also likely gone through one of the usual stressors – loss of family member, or job, foreclosure, drug addiction or alcoholism.” He shook his head, rubbing at his temples. “Check the employees first. He’s connected to this place somehow.”

“Are you alright, Will?” Hannibal asked, concerned.

“Just a headache,” he replied, suddenly noticing a commotion coming from the hallway.

“It’s inconceivable that I wasn’t informed sooner!” a furious man spoke, marching into the room with a panicked woman just a few steps behind him. He paused at the threshold, raising his hands to cover his mouth. “Oh, that’s Zachary!”

Will recognized him immediately, and had to repress the urge to smile. He hadn’t changed a bit. Still hanging onto that incredibly posh British accent. His rimless glasses slid halfway down his nose. His hair was almost completely white, but other than that, he looked almost exactly like he did fifteen years ago.

“Mr. Prescott,” the woman said, gaining his attention. “Perhaps you should speak to the investigators.” She pointed over to them, and Will saw the exactly moment the man recognized him.

Mr. Prescott smiled warmly as he approached, adjusting his purple tie and smoothing out the wrinkles in his white button-up shirt. “Well, this is a surprise. I’d recognize that face anywhere. Hello, Will. It’s so good to see you again.”

Will smiled crookedly, not oblivious to the curious looks both Jack and Hannibal were throwing his way. “Hello, Elijah. It’s good to see you too. I wish it were under better circumstances.”

Elijah’s manner turned somber as he gazed back at the model. “Quite so. This is dreadful. What am I going to tell his parents?” He clasped his hands under his chin and closed his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Jack interjected, “but, _who_ are you?”

“Ah, apologies,” he said, holding out his hand for Jack. “Elijah Prescott. I’m the president of _Beau Ideal._ And you must be Agent Crawford.”

“Really?” Will asked, surprised. “What about your father?”

“He passed away from pancreatic cancer last year,” Elijah answered flatly, dropping Jack’s hand and adjusting his tie again.

“Oh, I’m…sorry.”

“Don’t be. The man was an insufferable prat until the day he died. I’m amazed he actually included me in his will and didn’t just leave all his fortune to one of his lovers to spite me.”

Will tried not to smile, but found it impossible not to. “Yeah, well, Jeremiah _did_ care about you, in his own way.”

“He just didn’t think I was competent enough to run a business.” Elijah sighed. “Maybe he was right. This is a disaster!”

“It’s hardly your fault,” Will assured him. “We’ll figure this out, Elijah. Don’t worry.”

“Okay, enough of this. How do you two know each other?” Jack demanded, eyes flicking back and forth between them.

Elijah gave him searching look, as if asking permission, and Will shrugged his shoulders. “I did some modelling over the summers during my college years,” he explained matter-of-factly. “Elijah was my booker.”

Jack’s mouth dropped open, and Will tried not to take offence. “Your _what?_ ”

“My booker, you know,” Will shrugged. “The go-to guy for helping models find work. They help you set up your portfolio, get details about castings or photoshoots, stuff like that.”

“I still have your portfolio if you want it back,” Elijah offered, smiling pleasantly.

“Oh god. Do you still have my original headshot?” Will groaned.

“Of course I do,” he replied, sounding affronted. “I would never misplace something so important.”

Will groaned again, rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment. “I wish you’d burned that. My ears stuck out like Dumbo’s.”

“Your ears are adorable,” the man assured him with a grin.

The profiler laughed, ducking his face to hide the blush spreading across his cheeks.

Elijah reached out to grasp his chin, turning his head from side to side to examine him. “My goodness! If all my boys aged like you, I’d save myself a lot of money on scouts.”

“What, did crow’s feet suddenly become fashionable?”

“Oh, don’t be snarky. If you shaved, you’d look fifteen years younger.”

Will laughed again, playfully pushing the man’s hand away. “I would _not_ look twenty-two.”

“Honestly, I was thinking you’d look closer to nineteen.” Elijah frowned. “Oh, goodness! You’re almost forty! I suddenly feel _ancient!_ ”

The profiler grinned. “You don’t look a day older than the last time I saw you.”

Elijah preened. “Why, thank you. If you decide to shave off that atrocious stubble, I’ll be sure to return the compliment.”

“My facial hair is not _atrocious._ I think it makes me look distinguished.”

“Then you either need a dictionary or a mirror, because it is in desperate need of a trim.”

Will grinned, not at all offended by the nitpicking.

Jack finally managed to get his facial muscles to cooperate, though he couldn’t stop glancing at Will. “So, Mr. Prescott, can you tell me who might have done this?”

Elijah’s face fell at the reminder of the dead model. “I’m sorry. I’m afraid I don’t know much of anything. I don’t get to speak with the models much anymore. I try to at least learn their names and faces, but I’ve been bogged down in administrative work since my father passed.”

“We’re thinking the murderer might be one of your employees,” Will said tentatively.

Elijah frowned. “I can’t see anyone I employ doing something like _this._ ”

“But you said yourself, you don’t know the models all that well anymore,” Jack pointed out.

“It’s not another model,” Will corrected dismissively. “It would be someone higher up. Likely an older man who’s been with the company for a long time. Or maybe someone who left or was forced to leave recently.”

Elijah looked uncertain. “I’m not sure.”

“He’d have an obsession with perfection, maybe to the point of lashing out when his vision wasn’t achieved,” he continued, sensing Elijah was thinking.

The man bit his lip. “I think – well – the only one who fits that description would be Marshall Weber, the photographer. He was part of the company for thirty years.”

Will grimaced instinctively at the sound of that name. “ _Was?_ ”

“There was an incident about eight months ago,” Elijah said hesitantly. “Marshall arrived for a photoshoot, but it was clear he was under the influence of something. I offered to reschedule for the next day. He was one of our best photographers, you see – everyone has bad days – but he refused. The shoot was going well, but one of the models, Riley Simmons, wasn’t holding his pose properly. Marshall became annoyed and snapped at Riley, but the poor boy – it was his fist shoot – he was so startled he knocked over one of the lights. By the time security intervened, Riley’s nose was broken and Marshall was threatening to kill him for ruining his shot.” He cleared his throat. “I fired him on the spot. I put up with a lot of eccentricities in my employees, but outright violence should never be condoned.”

“Was he ever arrested?” Jack asked, writing the information down.

Elijah shook his head. “Riley didn’t want to press charges. I assured his parents that I’d fired Marshall, and they were satisfied with that. Riley came back for a few more shoots, but then there was that incident – he fell off the stage early one morning and broke his neck.”

“Are you sure it was an accident?” Jack pressed.

Elijah opened his mouth, but then closed it again, looking over at the body one more time. “Oh dear, you think they’re related? It never even occurred to me. Marshall was normally an easygoing man.”

“Still, it’s a bit of a coincidence. A boy he’d threatened to kill ending up dead in a mysterious accident a few months later.”

Elijah looked sick. “I – I don’t _want_ to believe it, but if it’s true…” He swept his hand over his mouth, down to his chin. “I suppose you need his address, then.”

Jack nodded. “That would be helpful.”

Elijah nodded back morosely. “I’ll go get it for you. I wish I’d done something sooner.” He turned away, shoulders drooping as he trudged back into the hallway.

Will watched him go, aching for his old friend, but he soon noticed the weight of someone’s gaze on him.

He looked back, and saw both Jack and Hannibal were staring at him. His hackles raised as he blurted out defensively, “What?”

“You were a _model?_ ” Jack barked.

Will shrugged. “Yeah, for a few years. Is that a problem?”

“I think what Jack is trying to say is that it’s a strange transition to wrap one’s head around, to go from modelling to law enforcement,” Hannibal said smoothly.

Will shrugged again. “I needed the money, and it was better than flipping burgers.”

“Still…a _model._ ”

Will grinned, brushing his hair back with one hand and thrusting the other into the pocket of his jeans, canting his hip playfully. “Really, Jack? I know you’re straight as an arrow, but come on! You must have noticed more than a few of my students are hot for teacher.”

Jack blanched, mouth shrinking as if he was sucking on a lemon. “I just meant it seems a little beneath you, at least for someone as smart as you.”

He shrugged again, relaxing back into his normal stance. “Well, after busting my ass during the school year, it was nice to just stand around and look pretty for a paycheck.” He stretched. “Course all the brains in the world won’t stop you from stabbing yourself in the eye a few times while learning how to apply mascara.”

“You wore _mascara!_ ” Jack sputtered, a little too loudly as more than a few heads turned their way.

Will, rather than avoid eye contact or duck away as per his usual method of dealing with unwanted attention, instead raised a condescending eyebrow at the curious techs until they looked away, flustered. He grinned. “Forgot how much fun that is.” He turned back to address Jack. “And yes, even male models wear makeup, especially foundation. The lights can make your skin look like you’re slathered in grease without it.”

Jack blinked, then shook his head. “That…isn’t relevant. Did you ever meet Marshall Weber?” he asked abruptly.

Will’s good mood shattered immediately, and he grimaced again, crossing his arms. “Yeah, I know the guy.”

“What’s your opinion on him?”

Will glared at the wall behind the two men. “I know he’s a slimeball. Bad temper, too. He didn’t take rejection well.”

“Rejection?” Hannibal repeated, eyes flashing.

Will sighed. “Yeah, he had a bad habit of singling out clients and purposefully sabotaging their photoshoots.”

“I’m not sure I understand.” Hannibal’s tone was extremely measured, but Will detected a hint of darkness that wasn’t quite as concerning as it should’ve been.

He shrugged again. “Weber would offer to do a reshoot with them, in _private._ ” He glanced over, seeing both the agent and the psychiatrist cluing in on what he meant. “One of the other guys, can’t remember his name, he showed up early the day after visiting Weber, practically in tears because he wasn’t sure how he was going to cover up all the bruises before his shoot started.”

Jack’s posture stiffened, and that was the only warning Will needed to know who was behind him.

He turned around, finding Elijah standing there with two manila folders and a horrified expression on his face.

Will looked down. “Hey, Elijah.”

Elijah pursed his lips together, suddenly appearing furious. “Forgive me, Agent Crawford, but this is quite a shock. I had no _idea_ that Marshall was exploiting my clients in such a way, otherwise I would have fired him much sooner.”

Will shrugged. “There didn’t seem to be a point to reporting it. It was us against him, and Jeremiah wasn’t going to put a few amateur models above his star photographer.”

“ _Us?_ Oh, don’t tell me he assaulted you, Will.”

“Nah, I never gave him the chance,” he assured him, brushing off his concerns. “As soon as he tried the whole sabotage routine, I quit the next day.”

Elijah tilted his chin up, affronted. “You could have informed me. I would have done something.”

“Your father would have trampled over any attempt to deal with him,” Will said dismissively. “Weber’s photos made the cover of _Vogue._ He wasn’t going to give that up on some hearsay.”

Elijah pursed his lips again, but nodded stiffly, holding out a folder to Jack. “This is Marshall’s contact information. It lists his last known address, but he may have moved. We haven’t spoken since his termination.”

Jack took the folder. “Thank you, Mr. Prescott. You’ve been very helpful.”

“I hope you catch him, Agent Crawford.”

“I hope I do too.” Jack quickly took off with the folder, not even sparing them another glance as he flipped through it for information.

Elijah shook his head, then turned to Hannibal and held out his hand. “I’m sorry. I’ve been terribly rude. I haven’t even asked your name yet, sir.”

Hannibal smiled graciously and shook his hand. “Understandable given the circumstances. I am Dr. Hannibal Lecter.”

“A doctor?” he asked, smiling broadly. “That must be a useful occupation to have when people’s hearts stop at the sight of those cheekbones.”

Will groaned, smacking himself on the forehead. “Oh my god, Elijah. _Don’t._ ”

“Whatever do you mean?” he replied, grinning shamelessly. “Oh, come now. I’m just _teasing._ I’m hardly going to steal your boyfriend, Will.”

Will’s face flushed until the tips of his ears turned bright red. “We’re – we’re not _dating._ ”

“Oh?” Elijah replied, eyebrows rising in surprise. “Engaged? Married? Secret lovers?”

Hannibal cleared his throat, and for once Will was grateful for the doctor’s need to clarify things. “I’m sorry, Mr. Prescott, but Will and I have a completely professional relationship. We’re colleagues.”

Elijah seemed skeptical, but smiled genially. “Ah, my mistake. It’s just that when Will was discussing…Mr. Weber…you looked like you were planning to kill the man with your bare hands.”

Hannibal’s face was carefully blank. “I have little tolerance for people who use their positions of authority to prey on innocents.”

Elijah nodded vehemently. “I agree with you entirely. When I think of all the lives that were ruined by that man…” He glared at the wall. “I don’t consider myself a violent person, but I hope he gets the needle for what he’s done.”

Hannibal nodded back. “You’re very protective of your clients.”

“It’s a cutthroat business. _Someone_ needs to look out for them.”

Hannibal nodded again, smiling. “Then I’m very glad they have someone like you, Mr. Prescott.”

“Oh, call me Elijah. Any friend of Will’s is a friend of mine.”

“Then I insist you call me Hannibal.”

Will observed their back-and-forth with growing discomfort until Elijah finally noticed. “Oh, apologies. Before you leave, I wanted to give this back to you.” He held out the second manila folder, and Will took it, flipping it open. His eyes widened as he came face-to-face with his humiliating headshot, and he closed the folder with a groan.

“Elijah, you didn’t have to dig out this old thing.”

“Nonsense!” he said, waving his hand. “I kept everything neatly filed. I knew exactly where it was. It only took a moment to retrieve.”

“That’s not what I – oh, never mind. Thanks for getting it, though I still wish you’d burned that picture.” He smiled awkwardly, tucking the folder under his arm.

Elijah clapped him on the shoulder. “I would never dream of destroying a face like yours. In fact,” He leaned in, and said in a sotto voice, “If you’re interested, you could stop by sometime and I’ll take a few updated shots.”

Will blinked, then snorted. “Oh, come on! You can’t be serious.”

Elijah puffed out his chest. “When it comes to my business, I am the epitome of serious.”

He shook his head. “No way. I’m too old for that.”

“Hardly. Like I said, shave your face and you’d look like a schoolboy. Not that I’m planning to go with that. If you really want to stay so _rugged,_ we could do something outdoorsy.”

Will bit his lip, trying to repress a grin. “I’ll think about it.”

Elijah clapped him on the shoulder again. “That’s my boy! I’ll be waiting for your call.”

“I don’t have your number,” Will pointed out.

“I wrote it down on the back of your headshot.” Elijah smiled broadly again, bowing to them. “Will, Hannibal, I must be off.” He walked away, gesturing for the woman from earlier to follow him as he began speaking rapidly.

Will smiled at his back as he left, and then turned to find Hannibal was staring at him intensely. “What?” he asked defensively.

The doctor smiled. “It’s just a pleasant change to see you look so confident.”

He looked away, feeling awkward again. “Yeah, well, sometimes it’s nice to remember that some people see me as beautiful instead of broken.”

“ _I’ve_ never seen you as broken, Will.”

The profiler fought down another blush at what that implied, and stuffed his hands into his pockets, momentarily forgetting about the folder tucked under his armpit. He recognized his mistake just a second after it fell to the floor, sending a collection of photographs scattering.

“Ah, shit!” he muttered, dropping to his knees to pick them up.

Before he could blink, Zeller seemed to teleport directly beside him, and reached down for one of the pictures. His eyebrows nearly bounced into his hairline as he got a good look at it. “Holy mother of – Jimmy! Come see this!”

Jimmy Price appeared at his side just as quickly, and Beverly Katz soon followed, standing on tiptoe to catch a glimpse of the photo.

Will quickly scooped up the rest of the photographs and held out his hand. “I’d like that back, please,” he said flatly.

“ _Dude!_ ” Katz exclaimed, her eyes darting from the photo to his face. “Is that _you?_ ”

Zeller glared at the photograph. “This makes me feel _extremely_ conflicted about my sexuality,” he muttered to Price.

“Really, because mine has never been more certain,” Price quipped back.

Katz plucked the photo from Zeller’s hand and held it out. “Here you go, Graham.”

Will snatched the photo back and quickly tucked it away. “Thanks.” He turned around, intent on getting as far away from them as possible when Katz grabbed his arm. He glanced back, about ready to shake her off, but she smiled genially at him.

“I’m not even going to _try_ to figure out what that’s about, but I just gotta say… _woof._ ”

Price snickered, and Zeller looked even more frustrated than before.

Will couldn’t help the smile that crossed his face. “Thanks. I appreciate the compliment.”

He turned and left, Hannibal following behind him, and made his way back to the parking lot.

“Would you like to visit Abigail together?” Hannibal asked him, as if it was just a normal day. “We could drive back to your house so you could leave your car there, and then take my car to the hospital. I’ll drive you back when it’s time to leave.”

He shrugged. “Sure. Why not?”

The drive back seemed longer than it really was. Will couldn’t help but glance over at the manila folder on his passenger seat again and again. He wondered if he should just leave it at home, but some part of him wanted to go over the old pictures. They reminded him of happier days.

They pulled up to his house, and he opened the door to let the dogs out for a bathroom break, desperately trying to keep them from jumping all over Hannibal’s suit.

“Down, Buster! Winston, no! Harley, you sit!”

Hannibal smiled through it all, looking down at the giant balls of fur with barely-contained amusement. “You’ve certainly built an interesting family for yourself.”

He shrugged, leading the way into the kitchen. “Dogs are simple. They don’t care if you say the wrong thing, or don’t say anything at all. They communicate by touch more than anything.”

“Touching helps build bonds, especially between humans.”

Will rushed to fill the dogs’ bowls, desperately trying not to read too much into that statement.

“May I use the facilities?” Hannibal asked.

Will glanced at him. “The bathroom? Uh, it’s that way, last door on the left,” he said, pointing down the hallway.

Hannibal thanked him and made his way to the proper room. Will stood at the doorway for a few minutes before calling his dogs back in. They rushed for the food bowls, completely ignoring him as he took a seat.

Will ran his hand over his stubble, and found he couldn’t help but agree with Elijah just a little bit. Maybe he _should_ shave it off. It wasn’t like he needed the facial hair to keep from being carded while buying his whiskey. He wasn’t twenty-two anymore.

Hannibal emerged from the bathroom, and Will shook his head, getting to his feet. “Ready?”

“Yes, are you?”

Will shrugged. “As ready as I’ll ever be,” he said, somber. He gave Winston a goodbye pet, but the rest of his family hardly seemed to notice as he left.

They got into Hannibal’s Bentley, and Will was just grateful his shoes weren’t too muddy. The inside was spotless.

“I see you brought your portfolio,” Hannibal noted after they got back on the road.

Will flattened his hand on the folder. “Yeah. Figured I’d go over the pictures for old time’s sake.”

“Were you happy with that job?”

“Are we in therapy, Dr. Lecter?”

Hannibal smiled. “My apologies. I am simply curious.”

Will shrugged again, pulling out a few of the pictures and spreading them out on his lap. “Aside from Weber’s sexual extortion, it was the best job I ever had. I always knew what the photographers wanted from me, what emotions to convey, how to angle myself to show off whatever was being advertised. It wasn’t always fancy clothing either. They usually put me in casual wear.” Will lifted up a photo of himself in a navy blue shirt and faded jeans, draped over the backseat of a car with a slit down the front of his shirt and his legs spread open. “Sorta like this,” he said, grinning.

Hannibal glanced over to quickly peer at the photo, and froze in place.

Will blinked, surprised, and quickly lowered the picture. “You alright?”

Hannibal wrenched himself out of his stupor and turned back to the road. He licked his lips. “Perfectly fine. It’s just a bit of a shock to see you in that position.”

Will stared at him. “Okay then. I’ll keep them to myself while you’re driving.”

Hannibal swallowed thickly. “That would probably be for the best.”

Will slipped the photos back inside, peeking over at Hannibal every few minutes. It was a crazy thought, but it almost seemed like…

No, not possible. Hannibal Lecter was one of Baltimore’s Elite. He wasn’t the type to slum it with some unstable FBI reject.

Still, he found he had to fight down a blush.

Just because Hannibal knew he was messed up didn’t mean he couldn’t still find Will _physically_ attractive.

This was too awkward. He needed to change the subject.

“I was so embarrassed when I went to audition for the first time,” he confessed, sinking into his seat.

Hannibal glanced over, nodding for him to continue.

“A scout approached me while I was working on an assignment for school in a local park. She said I had the perfect look.” He rolled his eyes. “She gave me a business card, but I didn’t call until a month later, when I was desperate for money. I went in for an open casting, met Elijah, and made $150.00 in three hours. Like I said, it was better than flipping burgers, so when Elijah called me two days later, I went back for another gig, and by the time I went back to school, I was working there pretty regularly.” He grinned again. “I still remember the look on Elijah’s face when I told him how old I was. He was _convinced_ I was only sixteen.”

“You _do_ look much younger without facial hair,” Hannibal commented.

He reached up to stroke his stubble. “Tell me about it. I didn’t stop getting carded at the liquor store until I was over thirty.”

“I know a lot of women who wish they could say the same.”

Will laughed. “I’ll bet. You must hang around a lot of bored housewives. They used to come to the fashion shows. One time when I was nineteen, this woman – Christ, she must’ve been in her fifties – she offered to pay my student loans off for me if I slept with her.”

Hannibal’s knuckles turned white as his gripped the steering wheel. “And did you?”

He shook his head. “No, I was tempted, though. Living paycheck to paycheck and more than ten grand in debt, you do a lot of things you wouldn’t expect you were capable of.”

“Were your parents able to help out with your education?”

Will shook his head again. “Nah. Mom left when I was just learning how to walk, and dad was a good ol’ boy who didn’t believe in no fancy schmancy degrees. He could barely afford to keep a roof over our heads most of the time.”

“It must have been very difficult for you.”

He sat up straighter, not letting the implied pity aggravate him. “I survived. What about you? Private schools and summer camps, I expect.”

Hannibal shook his head somberly. “I was largely homeschooled until my parents died. Then I went to live with my aunt in Paris, and started attending university when I turned sixteen.”

Will’s mouth tightened. “I’m sorry. How did they die, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Pneumonia, most likely. We were living in Lithuania during the Cold War. The Iron Curtain was not kind to our family. I lost my parents and my baby sister the winter I turned fourteen.”

“Christ,” Will muttered. “Well, now I feel like an asshole.”

Hannibal smiled. “It’s quite alright. I’ve cultivated this persona for many years. The fact that someone like you cannot see beneath it reassures me.”

Will frowned at that, pondering a bit at the phrasing, but shook his head. “Still, it puts things into perspective.”

“Indeed. We can become so consumed by our own pain that we fail to notice it in others. I was quite miserable for many years after my family died, until I met a woman who had lived through the Cambodian genocide. She lost both her arms to gangrene after being tortured. I had the privilege of watching her change her infant son’s diaper with her feet.” The doctor smiled fondly at the memory.

Will mirrored the expression instinctively, mind already conjuring an image of a woman doing just that as easily as one might use their hands. “Must’ve been nice, being a doctor, helping people. Why’d you quit?”

“I killed someone,” he confessed, prompting Will to look over in surprise. “Or, more accurately, I couldn’t save someone, but it felt like killing them.”

“You were an Emergency Room surgeon. It has to happen from time to time.”

“It happened one time too many. I transferred my passion for anatomy into the culinary arts. I fix minds instead of bodies and no one has died as a result of my therapy.”

Will grimaced, suddenly aware of his own tactlessness. “I would make a terrible doctor.”

Hannibal smiled playfully. “Your bedside manner may need work, but you’re certainly clever enough for the job.”

He scoffed, leaning back in his seat. “I doubt anyone would trust me with a scalpel. They’d worry I’d start to enjoy cutting people open a little too much.”

Hannibal let out a thoughtful noise. “I would certainly trust you with one…if you were properly trained, of course.”

“Well, that’s all the motivation _I_ need.”

Hannibal just smiled.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys! Glad to see you liked it so far. I'm kind of nervous about posting this story. It's a lot more explicit than I'm used to writing. I think of it as practice until Mania comes out, (which I am still working on. I just need to do a bit of research for the next chapter before I can figure out where it's going.) I think maybe I'll start working on that Star Wars Crossover I thought about writing. I have some plot notes for it and everything. I literally just need to come up with an ending. Why are endings so hard?
> 
> WARNING! Attempted sexual assault in this chapter! And a bit of torture, mostly psychological. Basically, Will's not having a good day. It turns out alright, though, promise.
> 
> Not much to say except, enjoy!

They finally pulled into the hospital parking lot, and quickly made their way to Abigail’s room.

Will froze in the doorway, seeing the girl’s eyes were wide open. “Abigail? Are you awake?”

Hannibal quickly approached her bedside, moving his finger in front of her face, but then slouched and shook his head. “No, she’s still comatose, I’m afraid. This kind of thing isn’t unusual. People wake up in stages, and there’s no telling what kind of damage her brain might have sustained.”

Will’s face fell, and he slumped down on the couch that faced the bed. “Brain damage? She didn’t hit her head. At least I don’t _think_ she did.”

Hannibal shook his head again. “No, but she did lose a significant amount of blood. Her brain was probably starved of oxygen for several minutes.” He stopped when he noticed Will’s stricken expression.

“So you’re telling me she’ll probably die, or that she’ll wake up with brain damage?”

Hannibal moved to sit down beside him, putting his hand on Will’s shoulder. “I managed to prevent the worst of the bleeding. She may still pull through.”

Will leaned forward, resting his head in his hands. “I should’ve been faster. I should’ve _shot_ the bastard the second I walked into the kitchen.”

“You didn’t want to kill him,” the doctor stated.

Will shook his head. “I’ve never wanted to kill anyone more in my life, but _Abigail_ didn’t want me to kill him. Even when he had a knife to her throat, she still…”

“Loved him,” Hannibal finished. “We can forgive many flaws in those we love with all our hearts, even if it means our death.”

“Sounds like a textbook abusive relationship,” Will grumbled.

“I have no doubt it was. It doesn’t mean they didn’t still love each other.”

Will leaned back against the couch, dislodging Hannibal’s hand. “I just want to turn back time and tell Jack to shove it.”

“Abigail may still have been injured, or worse.”

“But at least I wouldn’t be responsible for it.”

“You’re not responsible now. Her father was the one who hurt her.”

Will glanced over at Hannibal, eyes half-lidded. “Sometimes I _feel_ like I’m her father,” he confessed. “I got too close. I always do. That’s why this work is no good for me.” He hid his face in his hands. “I should just quit. Not just working for Jack, but everything to do with the FBI.”

Hannibal was silent for a moment. “What would you do?”

He sighed. “I don’t know. Fix boat motors, I guess. Maybe learn how to fix cars or something.” He glanced down, just then noticing the manila folder on his lap. He smiled bitterly. “Maybe I’ll take Elijah up on his offer. Who knows? I might get a few more years out of it.”

“If you think that will make you happy, I say do it.”

Will looked up to find Hannibal smiling at him. “Is that your professional advice, Doctor?”

“You can take it that way if you prefer, but really, I quite enjoyed seeing that other side of you.”

Will grinned, looking away. “Yeah, I kinda liked it too.”

They sat in silence afterwards, watching the sun rise high in the sky. Hannibal offered to take him to a restaurant for lunch, but Will wasn’t hungry. It wasn’t long before he found himself drifting off to sleep.

 

When Will awoke, the sunlight’s angle had changed, and he was laid out on the couch, covered with a blanket. Someone had removed his glasses, or maybe he’d done that himself. When he searched the end table he found a folded up piece of paper placed underneath them.

He slipped his glasses back on and unfolded the paper to read.

_Dear Will,_

_While you were sleeping, Jack Crawford called to inform you that they’ve apprehended Marshall Weber. I told him you wanted nothing to do with the interrogation considering your history with the man. I hope I didn’t overstep my bounds, but you looked as though you needed rest. Feel free to call me when you need a ride home. I will come as quickly as possible._

_Hannibal_

Will shook his head, not able to bring himself to be upset with Hannibal for making that decision for him. He honestly hoped he never saw Weber’s face again.

“ _Hi._ ”

Will almost didn’t hear the word, but when his mind finally processed it, he looked up, startled.

Abigail was still in the same position, but there was something in her eyes – a sense of alertness that hadn’t been present before – that made him realize she was truly awake.

“ _Hi,_ ” he whispered back, too stunned to do anything else.

She cleared her throat, coughing a bit. “Can I have some water?” she asked in a raspy voice.

He jumped to his feet, spilling his pictures to the ground again. He cringed, gathering them up, and put them back on the couch as he filled up a paper cup in the sink in the bathroom. His hands wouldn’t stop shaking. He needed to call a nurse or something. They’d want to know that Abigail was awake, but this could be the only time he’d get to speak with her alone.

He brought the cup to her side, not sure if she was okay with him touching her. There was a straw on an empty tray next to her bed, the paper wrapping still on it. He opened it and held the cup steady as she drank it down.

The door was shut, and Will couldn’t hear anything from the hallway. Hannibal must have done it to give him some privacy while he slept.

He pulled up a chair next to her bed, unable to look her in the eye. “Abigail, do you…remember…what happened?”

She was silent for a moment, and Will could feel her eyes on him. “I remember you shooting my dad.”

He shut his eyes tightly, guilt twisting his stomach. “I wish I hadn’t, but when I saw the knife…I couldn’t let him kill anyone else. I just wanted to protect you.”

She didn’t say anything for another long moment, and Will gradually built up the courage to glance at her.

Abigail looked guilty as well.

“You ever think maybe I deserved it?” she queried, staring at the ceiling.

He sucked in a breath. “What do you mean?” he asked, ice trickling down his spine.

She sniffled, clearing her throat again. “I helped him find the girls he killed,” she confessed softly. “We’d take trains and busses to the colleges I applied to, and I’d sit by girls who looked like me. I’d find out their names, where they lived, when they’d be alone.” Tears dripped down the sides of her face. “I didn’t _want to,_ but I knew he wanted to kill me. I just wish I knew what was so _wrong_ with me that I made him want to do it.”

Will shut his eyes, and leaned back in his seat.

_She’s not a murderer. She was just protecting herself. She didn’t take a knife to any of those girls. She’s a victim, just like them._

Jack wouldn’t see it that way, and neither would the public. They’d crucify her for trying to stay alive in a terrible situation, none of them bothering to think about whether _they_ could turn in someone they loved for murder.

His empathy made life difficult sometimes, but choosing what to do in this situation was easy.

Will glanced at the door. Still shut tight, and no footsteps or voices nearby.

He lowered his voice, carefully watching for any sign that someone was coming. “I need you to listen carefully, Abigail,” he said firmly, gaining her attention. “Jack Crawford, my boss, thinks you had something to do with these murders. If he finds out what you did, he’ll make you pay for your father’s crimes, but I don’t think that’s right. You didn’t kill those girls, and you never wanted anyone to die. You were just trapped in a bad situation.”

Abigail nodded slowly, her eyes wide.

“Here’s what you’re going to say when they question you: You didn’t know anything at first. You’re an outgoing kid, and you make a lot of friends wherever you go. You talked to your dad about them sometimes. You didn’t realize that they were going missing until months after you first started checking out colleges with your dad. You don’t watch the news, right?”

She shook her head quickly, hope lighting up in her eyes.

“Okay, and long-distance friendships are hard. You just thought they didn’t have time for you. It wasn’t until much later that you learned they had disappeared and started to suspect your father was responsible, but you didn’t want to believe it. Then, when you couldn’t stand it anymore, you tried to tell your mother.”

Her eyes widened again. “So, Dad killed her then,” she said, emotionless.

He squeezed his eyes shut again. “Yes, I’m sorry, but this means no one can contradict you.” He took a deep breath. “Your mother told you that it was a coincidence. That you were imagining things. It reassured you, and you wanted so desperately to believe it.” He took another deep breath. “He was your father. He’d never done anything to hurt you. How were you supposed to know what he was?”

Abigail stared at him, clearly frightened, but hopeful. “What if they don’t believe me?”

“ _Make them,_ ” he said sternly. “Convince them that you were afraid to go to the police because you didn’t think they’d believe you either. It’s not like you had any proof. You have to sound scared. Cry if you can. Not a lot, but just enough to make people see you as a victim rather than an accomplice. I’ll back up anything you say. I have a gift for reading people, and Jack trusts me.”

She chewed on her lip for a moment, still gazing at him with wide eyes. Finally, she nodded. “Okay, I think I can do that, but…why are you helping me?”

Will looked down at his hands, clasping them together tightly. “I already cost you your family. I don’t want to help take away your freedom too.”

“Where will I go?” she asked, tears welling up again. “Who would want anything to do with me? I don’t have any family except for my grandma, and she’s in a nursing home. I haven’t even finished school.”

“I’ll support you myself if I have to, or I’ll ask a – a friend of mine to look after you.” Will bit his lip, wondering if Hannibal would be okay with him making promises like that. The man seemed to feel a certain responsibility for Abigail, just as Will did. He might have already begun making plans. “This doesn’t have to define you. You’re free now.” He swallowed, remembering Hannibal’s words. “You can still love him, even after everything he did.”

She stared at him, surprised. “Don’t you want me to forget about him and move on?”

_Yes._

He shook his head. “Doesn’t matter what I want. He’s your father. I’m not. If you never stop loving him, then that’s fine. If you never want to think of him again, that’s fine too.”

She nodded, comforted, and closed her eyes. “I think you should go tell the nurses that I’m awake. They’ll want to know.” She reached out blindly, touching his hand. “You can come back and visit, if you want. I don’t – I know you did what you had to do to protect me.”

Will took a shaky breath. “Thank you. I’ll be back tomorrow.”

“Wait! You never told me your name.” Her eyes sprang open again to look at him.

He realized she was right, and gave her a weak smile. “It’s Will. Will Graham.”

She smiled back, face twinging with pain. “Thank you for saving me, Will.”

His expression mirrored hers. “I’d do it again in a heartbeat, Abigail.”

After scooping up his portfolio and disposing of the cup of water, he went to inform someone that he thought Abigail was waking up. The nurse he talked to didn’t seem too impressed, but after a few minutes, she emerged from the room and called for a doctor. After that there was a flurry of activity, and Will discreetly made his way to the front doors of the hospital only to remember that he didn’t have his car.

He grimaced, disliking the idea of calling Hannibal for a ride. They were probably in the middle of the interrogation. He should have just driven his own car, but it had seemed _rude_ to make Hannibal drive all the way to the hospital in silence when it was clear he’d wanted some company. Will hadn’t minded it too much either. Besides, they saved on parking that way.

He glanced down at his portfolio, and remembered something.

There, on the back of his headshot, was Elijah’s number. Will smiled, and dialled the number into his phone. “Hey, Elijah? It’s Will Graham. I know it’s last-minute, but do you think you could give me a ride?”

 

It had taken less than thirty seconds in Marshall Weber’s presence for Hannibal to start thinking up recipes.

Jack Crawford was currently playing _bad cop_ while Hannibal stood behind the one-way glass, observing. Weber did not strike him as a killer. Certainly not one capable of creating such a vision as the boy at _Beau Ideal._

“There a reason you pulled me outta bed, officer?” Weber slurred, a strong scent of alcohol and cigarettes emanating from him. His black hair was starting to turn gray, and appeared to have a greasy texture.

“It’s _Agent,_ ” Jack corrected firmly, pulling out a folder with the crime scene pictures. “And it seems a little strange that you weren’t already awake. Late night?”

Weber shrugged, squinting his watery, brown eyes under the interrogation lights. “I’m unemployed. Guess my sleep schedule got fucked up.”

Jack’s mouth tightened, but didn’t otherwise react to the man’s language. “I heard that you lost your job. Your former employer, Elijah Prescott, said you assaulted a model named Riley Simmons.”

Weber leaned forward, gesturing with his finger. “Look, whatever Prescott told you is a pile of shit, alright? That little bastard sabotaged my equipment and then mouthed off at me. I just wanted to teach him a little respect.”

“Well, you won’t have to worry about him anymore. Riley’s dead.”

Weber sat back, regaining his calm demeanor. “That’s a shame. Kid had his whole life ahead of him. Not as a model, though. He didn’t have that, you know, presence,” he said casually.

“And what about Zachary Flint? Did he lack that _presence_ as well?”

Weber hummed thoughtfully, tapping his chin. “Remind me which one he was? There were so many over the years, they all just blur together after a while. I mean, I’ve got my favourites, of course. Everyone does. God, there was this one little college boy in the 90’s. Fuck! I mean, I was around pretty faces all the time, but this kid…He was the quiet type too, you know what I’m saying? You get a quiet boy like that in the bedroom and they moan so loud they rattle the paintings off the fucking _walls._ And god _damn_ those eyes! He had a way of looking at you so you weren’t sure if he wanted to fuck you or kill you.”

After listening to his words, Hannibal felt a fury he hadn’t experienced since the day his sister was murdered. If he could reach through the glass and rip Weber’s tongue out before Jack stopped him, he would. As it was, he moved Weber’s name to the top of his mental list of ingredients.

Jack was not one to be diverted. He ignored Weber’s spiel, though from the thunderous expression on his face, it was clear that he too had deduced who Weber was talking about.

The agent opened the folder, and spread out the crime scene photos on the desk in front of him. “Maybe _these_ will jog your memory.”

Weber looked at them for a moment, confused, and then he finally seemed to notice the noose around Zachary’s neck, and the dull glaze in his eyes. He backed away immediately, eyes widening as he waved his hands in front of his face. “No, no, you ain’t pinning this shit on me! I’ve never seen that kid, and I sure as hell didn’t do _that._ ” His calm demeanor had left him completely. Hannibal was quite satisfied to see how easily it shattered.

“Really? Because Mr. Prescott seemed quite sure of your guilt, especially after he learned that you liked to force the models to sleep with you by threatening to destroy their careers.”

Weber snarled, leaning forward again as he shoved the pictures away from him. “Hey! Anything I did with them was consensual, alright? And hell, it’s not like Prescott never wanted to do the same! That little twink I was telling you about? Prescott had a crush on him so big you could see it from space! He wasn’t the only one, either. He probably fucked that Riley kid, and what’s-his-face in the pictures. And, you know what? I’m done talking. Get me my lawyer. I want my fucking lawyer!” he screamed at the glass, inadvertently meeting Hannibal’s eyes.

Momentarily defeated, Jack packed up his things and left the room, shaking his head. “He’s not budging. I’m not even sure he’s the right guy.”

Hannibal _knew_ he wasn’t, but he saw no reason to do Jack’s job for him. He also found himself far too busy digesting this new information about _Beau Ideal’s_ president. He had to hand it to the man. Elijah had fooled even _him._

“I suppose it’s up to the courts for now,” he said solemnly. “I hope Will finds some comfort in knowing that man is off the streets.”

Jack sighed, leading the way down the hallway to the front doors. “Yeah, for what it’s worth. Guess it’s back to work.”

“Thank you for letting me observe the interrogation. I hope to see you again, Agent Crawford.” Hannibal held out his hand, and Jack shook it.

“Thanks for the help today.”

“I don’t feel like I did much to assist you.”

Jack side-eyed him. “Will seemed pretty happy, though. That’s one thing we had going for us.”

Hannibal lowered his eyes sheepishly, though inside he found himself seething. “I don’t believe _I_ was responsible for his good mood.”

Jack pursed his lips. “Yeah, well, you kept it together better than I did.” He shook his head. “Will Graham, a model. It still baffles me.”

He found that almost insulting, but Hannibal merely nodded. “I must return to the hospital to pick up Will. Do feel free to call me if there are any further developments in the case.”

The agent nodded back, then set off back to his office, leaving Hannibal by himself. He made his way to his car, and pulled out his phone, intending on calling Will to tell him he was on his way.

However, as soon as he unlocked his phone, he noticed he had a new text, so he quickly read the short message.

_Dr. Lecter, it’s Will. Abigail woke up and the docs are checking her over. We can come back tomorrow. I’m getting a ride with Elijah. No need to drive back for me. Thanks for the offer though._

Hannibal sat in the car for over a minute, reading the text again and again, and found he wasn’t quite sure what to do.

On one hand, Will was a very real danger to him, and allowing him to die at Elijah Prescott’s hands – to be turned into a beautiful work of art – was a very fitting way to take care of that little problem.

On the other hand, Will was _his._ He had been since the day Jack Crawford walked into his office and told him about the man who could think like any and every killer. To allow him to be snuffed out was…not acceptable. If and when Will became a problem, Hannibal himself would deal with him in whatever manner he saw fit. He’d already made so much progress with him, and now that Abigail was awake, those emotional ties could be built up, molded into something more.

What to do?

He could inform Jack of his discovery, and allow the agent to arrest Prescott before Will came to any harm, but he wasn’t sure if he could convince him of Prescott’s guilt in time. The man’s camouflage was exceptional.

Only one thing to do then.

Hannibal started his car and began the drive to Will’s farmhouse.

 

“Thanks again for the ride, Elijah,” Will said, adjusting his seatbelt.

“Oh, it’s not a problem. I had to send everyone home today anyway. Did you know there are people whose job is to clean up bodies? I always thought it was the police who did that.” Elijah shook his head, and brushed his white bangs back out of his face. “They told me everything would be sterilized by tomorrow, but I don’t know if I should force everyone back to work so soon after such a tragedy.”

Will wasn’t the best person to ask about how to deal with crime scenes. His reactions to them ranged from numb acceptance to outrage or complete terror. “Maybe you should set up some sort of group therapy thing, or just hire a psychiatrist who’s willing to talk to anyone who needs it? I doubt most of your people can afford to take too many days off. No need to add to the stress of witnessing a dead body by making them go broke.” Maybe that was a bit too callous.

Luckily, Elijah just nodded along. “Good idea. I’ll give everyone tomorrow off and spend the day searching for a psychiatrist. Hmm…would your Dr. Lecter be interested?”

“Hannibal?” Will asked, scrunching up his face. “I don’t know. I think he’s got a pretty full plate. He might be willing to spend a few days talking with some of your employees if I ask him to though.”

Elijah grinned. “Got him wrapped around your finger, hmm? Did you show him any of your old pictures? I bet he was impressed.”

Will blushed, looking away. “Well, he nearly drove off the road, so I guess he was… _something._ ”

“Oh, dear. Which one did you show him?”

He pulled the photo out, grinning sheepishly. “This one.”

Elijah glanced over, and his eyes nearly popped out of their sockets. He laughed, throwing his head back in his mirth before fixing his eyes on the road again. “Oh, Will, how I adore you so. You’re lucky the poor man didn’t have a heart attack. He’s clearly smitten with you.”

Will blushed again. “Come on, we barely know each other.”

“I’m sure he’d _love_ to fix that.”

Maybe his thoughts from earlier weren’t so off-base if _Elijah_ had come to a similar conclusion.

He shook his head. “Doesn’t really matter. He’s my unofficial psychiatrist. I doubt he’d find it ethical to cross those boundaries. Not that I’m saying he wants to.”

Elijah rolled his eyes. “He wants to. Don’t argue with me. I’m older and wiser than you.”

Will snickered. “Yes, boss.”

His old friend smiled broadly. “I like the sound of that. Have you given any thought to coming back?”

Will squirmed in his seat. “A little. I’m not sure I could do much at my age.”

“Nonsense!” Elijah said, waving his hand as if swatting a fly. “Your age opens up a lot of opportunities. You’re _mature_ now. They do make clothes for people over twenty-five. We could try some business attire.”

“Suits. Great,” Will said flatly.

“Oh, hush! It’s better than that frilly white shirt you hated so much.”

He smiled. “It kind of grew on me after a while. I just liked messing with you.”

“Naughty boy,” Elijah scolded playfully.

Will flushed to the tips of his ears, squirming again. “I’m hardly a boy anymore, Elijah.”

“You’ll always be a boy to me, Will.”

There was something… _strange_ about the way he said that. Will looked over, perplexed, and a little uncomfortable.

He shook his head. Working with Jack was doing more damage than he thought. Now he was getting paranoid about Elijah. What next? Would he start suspecting _Hannibal_ of being a serial killer?

“Well, if you really want me. I guess I could do a bit of freelancing. I’m thinking of quitting my job, anyway. It might be nice to have some extra cash.”

Elijah grinned. “Stupendous! Would you mind doing a few test-shots when we get to your place? I just want to see if you’ve still got it.”

Will scoffed. “I don’t know what _it_ is, but I guess that’s okay. I’ll put the dogs out so you don’t get mauled.”

His friend nodded. “Good idea. I don’t want them chewing on anything. Oh, I’m so excited!”

They pulled into Will’s driveway a few moments later, and Elijah stayed behind to grab his photoshoot equipment from his trunk while Will let the dogs out for their run. A few of them wandered over to sniff at Elijah’s perfectly-tailored pants, but otherwise didn’t pay him too much attention.

Will left them to their own devices, knowing they would come back on their own soon enough. Winston stayed near the house, sniffing at patches of grass.

Elijah carried his tripod with only some difficulty. Will held the door open for him and allowed him to get set up.

“Move that light over there, would you Will? And push those chairs out of the way. My goodness, look at all this dog hair! Do you think you could vacuum that chair really quickly?”

Will just smiled, used to the man’s finicky ways, and went around rearranging the furniture. “How’s this?” he asked, turning on the light to illuminate the brown lounge chair he’d just finished vacuuming.

Elijah frowned, shaking his head. “No, no, this isn’t quite right. Ah ha! The piano. We’ll use the piano. Now, if you could just change into something…a little less _plaid,_ we can get started.”

Will snorted. “I’m not even sure I _have_ anything like that.”

Elijah gave him a disapproving look, and Will rolled his eyes. “Let me check my closet.”

After a few moments of rifling through his mostly unused bedroom, he finally located a red, button-up shirt and a pair of slacks that didn’t have _too much_ dog hair on them. He dusted them off with his hand and changed quickly, knowing Elijah was probably getting impatient.

He left his bedroom, feeling pretty pleased with himself, and spread his hands out as he entered the living room. “How do I look?”

Nobody answered, and Will dropped his hands back to his sides, looking around the room in confusion. “Elijah?” He squinted, noticing how dark the room was, and then he felt a sharp pain in his arm. He reached out to slap it, thinking it was a mosquito, only for an arm to wrap around his chest, and a familiar voice started hushing him.

He tried to fight back, instinct making him jam his elbow into his attacker’s abdomen, but whatever he’d been dosed with was already making him weak. He wobbled in place, and fell to his hands and knees, gasping.

_This can’t be happening._

Elijah stepped over him, rubbing at his stomach, but smiling blissfully. “The pants aren’t bad, but I think we should try a different shirt. And your hair. We have to do _something_ about those curls. And that _beard._ ” He frowned. “It’s got to go.”

“Elijah,” Will gasped out, arms barely able to hold him up. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Taking your final shots, Will,” he answered frankly. “You should be honoured. I’m going to keep them in my own private collection.”

Will’s arms lost whatever strength they had left, and he barely managed to keep from face planting.

Elijah hauled him up with a surprising amount of ease. “Come on, now. Let’s get you comfortable. There are so many things I want to do.”

Will found himself splayed out on his back in his lounge chair, unable to do more than twitch. He’d never felt so helpless. He whimpered as Elijah left for the bathroom, and came back with a packet of razors.

He was frowning down at them, shaking his head. “Really, Will? These are so cheap. I’ll try to be careful not to cut you, but you’ll have to stay very still for me.”

Will wondered if he was mocking him. He could barely even move his head.

He squeezed his eyes shut as Elijah turned on the light and patted Will’s face with a wet towel. He began the slow process of shaving off his stubble, dotting his face with shaving cream and sliding the razor along his skin, wiping it off on the towel after every stroke.

He whimpered when Elijah finished, wondering if the man would kill him now.

“ _Oh,_ look at you. You’re beautiful, Will.” Elijah put his hands on Will’s cheeks, feeling the smooth skin.

His eyes sprang open when he felt a pair of soft lips on his, and he twitched violently, trying to move his head to the side. Elijah held him still with ease, and it was all Will could do to keep his lips pressed tightly together as a tongue began to caress them. He whimpered again, and felt hot tears drip down his face.

Elijah pulled away with a gasp, and reached for the buttons of Will’s shirt. “Do you have any _idea_ how many times I’ve dreamt of this?”

Will watched in horror as his shirt was slowly undone, allowing Elijah access to his chest. He shuddered as the man’s fingers brushed against his nipples.

“I shouldn’t do this. It’s bad enough what I did to my other boys, but _god,_ you’re so _gorgeous._ ”

Will whimpered again, trying to stammer out the words _please_ and _no_ as Elijah straddled him, his arousal growing by the second. Elijah threw back his head, grinding against the paralyzed man.

“I won’t – I won’t _penetrate_ you. I don’t want to hurt you like that.” He reached down to undo Will’s belt, and the profiler finally managed to make a sound of protest, fingers twitching in vain.

Elijah looked up at him, and his expression darkened. “What? What is it? I’m trying to make you feel good!”

Will managed to make his head flop to the side, the closest thing he could do to shaking his head, and Elijah snarled.

“I get it. I’m not good enough for you! What? Would you rather do this with your _Doctor?_ ” With blinding speed, he slapped him, striking him so hard that Will’s head rocked to the side, cheek stinging. Tears built up again and slid down over the raw skin, and Elijah’s face and tone softened as he touched the red mark left behind. “Oh, I’m so sorry, Will. I don’t know what came over me. Don’t cry, now. Your face will get all blotchy.”

Will felt a sob build up in his chest, and he let it out just as the front door swung open.

 

Hannibal’s eyes narrowed as he took in what was happening. He shut the door behind him to keep out the dogs. They would only get underfoot. “Will? Are you alright?”

The profiler’s eyes were wide with terror, and kept darting between the two older men. His fingers twitched sporadically, and Hannibal quickly deduced that he was feeling the effects of some sort of muscle relaxant. That wasn’t good. At a high enough dose it could cause his heart and lungs to stop functioning. He had to make this quick.

“What are you doing here? Can’t you see we’re busy?” Elijah interjected – rather rudely in Hannibal’s opinion. He was honestly grateful for that. He’d liked the man, and it was always more difficult to kill someone he was fond of. Not impossible, though.

“What did you give him?” Hannibal said in his best _doctor-voice._

Elijah sneered at him. “Oh, don’t give me that! Why don’t you run along, Doctor, before I _someone_ gets hurt?” He pressed the razor to the side of Will’s neck hard enough to draw blood.

“Now, now, Elijah, you’ve gone and ruined your canvass,” he taunted.

Elijah turned back to Will, surprised by the blood trailing down his chest, and that was when Hannibal struck.

He dragged the man towards him, using a grip on his long, white hair, and sent him stumbling next to the fireplace. It only took Elijah a second to recover, and Hannibal mourned one of his favourite shirts as the razor sliced through the sleeve and left a shallow, bleeding cut on his arm.

Elijah was clearly a man who kept himself fit. Hannibal deduced that he had probably been studying some form of martial arts for a while. He was quite strong for his age.

Of course, Hannibal was stronger.

He allowed more than a few blows to get through his defence, earning himself a cut on his chest and swollen lip. Superficial wounds, but they were necessary. He had to keep up appearances of being a harmless, middle-aged man.

When he saw the perfect opening, he struck, making it appear like it was a lucky shot.

Elijah spun around from the force of it, not able to catch himself before he plunged face-first onto the sharp edge of the iron fire poker next to the fireplace, impaling himself through the eyeball.

Hannibal watched in satisfaction as the man twitched and seized, mouth opening as blood poured out of his nose. He didn’t have long to wait before Elijah went limp.

He approached the fallen man, checking for a pulse, and nodding with satisfaction when he found none present. Then he turned his attentions to Will Graham.

 

_Hannibal is a killer._

The thought wouldn’t leave Will’s head. He’d watched his two friends trade blows in his living room while he sat there helpless, and now that a victor had been declared, he realized he had never stopped being in danger.

_Hannibal is a serial killer._

He’d done this before. Maybe not quite like _this,_ but he’d taken a life before. More than one. More than two. How many people had he killed?

_Hannibal just saved my life._

That…made him pause.

Hannibal _knew_ Elijah was the killer, and he’d come to stop him. For what purpose? Hannibal wasn’t a vigilante. He didn’t have a conscience pestering him to do something about a serial killer on the loose. So what…?

The doctor knelt down beside him, checking his pulse and placing a hand on his burning cheek to sooth it. He was smiling gently, eyes full of…

…Oh… _oh…_

He’d come to save Will’s life, even though he _knew_ – or at least suspected – that Will might guess what he was just from witnessing the fight that was sure to ensue. Will already understood him well enough to know that Hannibal valued his freedom above everything else. He’d risked it all because…

 _Christ!_ What was the point of having empathy if it couldn’t pick up on something so blatantly obvious?

Will turned his head as much as he could, nuzzling into the doctor’s hand. He wished he could speak so he could tell the man how _elegant_ he’d looked during the fight. How beautiful it was.

Perhaps he’d get the chance later.

Hannibal got out his phone and called emergencies services. A few moments later, his front yard was illuminated by flashing lights, and a paramedic was calling his name, asking him to squeeze her hand. By that time, he was light-headed and drowsy. It was getting hard to breathe, and they loaded him up into the ambulance.

Hannibal’s eyes stayed on him until the ambulance doors slammed shut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know how Philia is a slow burn? Well, this is like the opposite. And by that I mean Will and Hannibal will be fucking like rabbits in the next chapter.
> 
> Just to clarify, Abigail _totally_ took advantage of Will's desire to protect her. Without Freddie Lounds around to fill her head with ideas that Will was just as crazy as her dad, she found it easier to trust him with the truth. I already discussed my feelings about Abigail, but I'll repeat this one point: She was a teenager caught in a terrible situation with no way to protect herself without her family being torn apart.
> 
> How many of you guessed it was Elijah? I didn't want to make it _too_ obvious, but I dropped a few hints in the last chapter. I try so hard to be clever.
> 
> Adieu, my faithful readers.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is basically half-fluff and half-smut. Let's just say I spent a lot of time blushing and looking over my shoulder while writing it.
> 
> Enjoy!

Will ended up staying in the hospital longer than he expected. A doctor had grown suspicious when he found Will had a fever that wouldn’t go down, and strange migraines. After doing a quick neurological test, he ordered an MRI despite Will’s protests, though those had gone silent when the medical technicians had discovered he was in the beginning stages of Anti-NMDA Receptor Encephalitis.

After three weeks of aggressive therapy, in which his immune system had been depressed to stop his antibodies from attacking his own brain, and steroids were used to decrease the inflammation, he was finally deemed, “cured” though his doctor ordered him to come back as soon as possible if he started experiencing the same symptoms. It wasn’t unusual for that particular type of encephalitis to reappear, though as long as Will took care of himself, it was unlikely to do so.

His only guests during his long stay were Jack Crawford and Alana Bloom. Jack, because he wanted to know when Will could get back to work. Alana, because she wanted to make sure he was alright, and to let him know that she was taking care of his dogs.

The person he really wanted to see never showed up, and he didn’t ask about him after learning that he’d been questioned and released by the FBI, and that all evidence pointed to Elijah Prescott as the murderer of the two models.

The day he left the hospital – after picking up his dogs, and some groceries – he found himself at Hannibal Lecter’s door, dressed in a brand new, dark blue three-piece suit with a bottle of wine in his hands.

He took a deep breath, steadying himself, and rang the doorbell.

It only took a moment for Hannibal to answer, and when he did Will felt his breath catch in his throat. The sleeves of the doctor’s pale red shirt were rolled up to his elbows, a tie tucked underneath a black vest. His forearms were thick with muscles that Will knew he was perfectly capable of using.

For a moment, doubt clouded his mind. Maybe he shouldn’t be here. Hannibal had kept him alive, but for what purpose?

He held out the wine bottle. “I – uh, thought I’d drop by to thank you for – for saving me.”

Hannibal smiled, taking the wine as if it were something precious. “Would you like to come in?”

Will nodded, entering the house as Hannibal stepped back to make room. He shoved his hands into his pockets, fearful of breaking anything expensive as Hannibal led him into the kitchen.

His eyes widened as he saw they weren’t alone. “Abigail?”

The teenager looked up from the vegetables she was chopping, and gave him a huge smile. She dropped the knife and rushed over to him, wrapping her arms around his neck. “Will! You’re okay! I was so worried about you.”

He was stunned, but only for a moment, and then he reached up and hugged her back, so grateful that she was here, that she wasn’t repulsed by him. He caught Hannibal looking at them over Abigail’s shoulder, and smiled.

“You’re just in time for dinner. Hannibal’s been teaching me how to cook. Want to see?” Abigail dragged him over to the counter, babbling about the differences between slicing and dicing, and something called _mise en place._

“I’m allowed to spend a few hours here every other day or so, and by the weekend I’ll be staying here for good. Dr. Bloom says my therapy has been going great, and she thinks I’ll be able to put what happened behind me. Did you know Hannibal petitioned to be my new guardian? He says we might be leaving America. No other colleges want me, even though everyone knows I had nothing to do with – with what my father did. Hannibal says it’ll all be forgotten soon. Maybe I could just take a year off and go travelling before I reapply. People do that all the time over there. Did you know some European schools are _free?_ Can you believe that?”

“You’re leaving?” Will asked, hating himself when he realized how pathetic he sounded.

Abigail’s face fell. “Um, maybe, but it won’t be for a few weeks at least. Hannibal was actually hoping…he wanted to ask if…” She glanced over at the silent doctor, biting her lip nervously.

Hannibal stepped forward. “I wanted to ask if you would join us for the trip. I think a vacation is just what you need to fully recover from your illness.”

Will stared at him, stunned. This visit wasn’t going how he’d thought it would. Abigail’s presence had thrown him off, and he’d honestly expected to have to fight to convince Hannibal that he wasn’t planning on turning him in.

Maybe they were trying to lure him into a false sense of security, and then murder him in a way that would leave no connection to Hannibal, but he doubted that’s what was really going on. Abigail’s behaviour was genuine, and Hannibal had already shown he had no desire to see Will come to harm, even at the cost of his own life.

He ducked his head, flushing as a smile crept across his face without his permission. “That sounds nice, actually. I could use a break. And I hope you like dogs, because I’ve got seven.”

Abigail smiled again, and for the first time, Will’s doubts vanished.

 

Dinner was a pleasant affair, with Hannibal sitting at the head of the table, Will to his right, and Abigail to his left.

“Hannibal’s been so great to me. He bought me all new clothes since everything in my house is now considered _evidence._ He’s helping me sell it, but most of the money is going to the family members of the girls my dad killed. I was pretty angry about that at first, but Hannibal said he would take care of me, just like you said.”

“Just as _Will_ said?” Hannibal asked, taking a bite of roasted pork loin.

Abigail blushed. “Well, he said he’d have a friend of his look after me. I just assumed…” She glanced between them, a knowing look in her eyes.

“You assumed right,” Will confirmed, after swallowing his own morsel of the delicious dinner. “I never got the chance to ask him to do that though, so I guess we’ll _both_ have to thank him.”

Hannibal smiled. “It was my pleasure, Will. I assure you.”

Will smiled back. “Even so, thank you. It means a lot to me.”

Hannibal turned back to his food, and Will swore the man appeared _bashful._

Will kept his expression carefully blank as he finished his meal, and sat back in his chair. “So, who did I just eat?”

Abigail’s face went completely white, but she didn’t seem surprised by his words. She glanced at Hannibal, looking to him for guidance.

Hannibal picked up his napkin and patted his mouth, unconcerned. “Are you accusing me of something, Will?”

“That you’re a killer? Or that you’re a cannibal?”

“What makes you say _that?_ ”

Will leaned forward, lowering his voice. “When you killed Elijah, you were too _elegant_ for it to be anything other than purposeful. I know you made it seem like it was an accident, but I’ve seen too many crime scenes to be fooled like that.”

“Elegant,” Hannibal repeated, smiling at him. “Will, you flatter me.”

He smiled back. “You love it.”

Hannibal set his napkin down on the table, and began folding it up as he spoke. “Am I to assume that _you_ were the one who helped Abigail concoct her story for the FBI?”

Will nodded sharply. “That’s right. She told me what happened when she woke up, so I helped her construct a story that would fool the FBI, and anyone else who asked what happened.”

Hannibal smirked. “I suppose you’re not wearing a wire, then.”

Will matched his expression. “Feel free to strip me if you want to be sure.”

Abigail coughed, reminding them that she was still at the table. She was still a little pale, but the fear was gone. Now she looked amused. She raised an eyebrow at them. “Would you prefer some time alone?”

Will blushed, realizing that she’d caught the flirtatious note in his voice.

Hannibal looked smug. “I think we should tidy up and get you back to the hospital.”

Abigail’s face fell. “Do I _have_ to?”

“Just one more week, and then you can come home for good. I promise.” Hannibal smiled and stood up, collecting his plate. Will and Abigail copied him, and together they walked into the kitchen to do the dishes. Hannibal washed, Will dried, and Abigail put them away. They performed the chore in silence and then made their way to the garage.

Abigail got into the backseat of Hannibal’s Bentley, toying with her scarf nervously, and sending them furtive glances. Will took the passenger seat, and Hannibal started the car, opening the garage with a remote.

After a few moments of silence, Abigail spoke up from the back. “So, um, _seven dogs?_ What are their names?”

Will grinned, looking at her in the rear-view mirror. “Well, there’s Winston, he’s the newest one. Buster’s a little troublemaker. Max is a big sweetheart. So are Sam and Harley, to be honest. Ellie’s just a little ball of curls, and Zoe has the _cutest_ under-bite. I trained them all myself, but they can get a little excitable when they meet new people. I could bring them over some time.”

Abigail smiled. “I’d like that. I’ve never had a dog.”

Hannibal’s lips twitched downward. Will guessed what was troubling him, and rolled his eyes. “I’ll vacuum the dog hair up, or we can just let them run around the yard.”

“It’s fine,” he said sullenly. “I was just thinking about our future accommodations. I’ll have to buy a house with an extra room for them while on our trip.”

Will rolled his eyes again. “Why do I get the feeling you’ll get something ridiculously ostentatious?”

“They’re your family, Will. I only want what’s best for them.”

He smiled again, ducking his head as they pulled into the hospital parking lot.

“We’ll come visit you tomorrow, Abigail,” Hannibal said softly as they walked into the waiting room. He hugged her. “And then you’ll be home for good by Saturday.”

Will stood to the side awkwardly, though he managed to shake himself out of his stupor when Abigail lunged at him for a goodbye hug. He smiled, relaxing again as they said their farewells.

Eventually, Hannibal led him back to the car, and they soon made their way back to the doctor’s house. “Would it be forward of me to ask if you want to stay the night?”

“I left my dogs with a neighbour. She’ll let them run around her farm and feed them in the morning. Until then, I’m yours.”

Hannibal hung up his coat, tilting his head as he eyed the younger man. “Why were you so sure I would let you leave?”

Will smirked, taking a step forward. “The fact that you’re the Chesapeake Ripper isn’t the _only thing_ I figured out about you, Hannibal.” He took another step forward, and tilted his head up to maintain eye contact with the doctor. “I wasn’t sure at first, but the way you reacted when you saw that old picture, and then what Elijah said about you, and the way you _looked at me…_ ” He lowered his head, licking his lips. “I’d have to be blind to _not_ see it.”

Hannibal reached out, tilting his face back up. “Remarkable boy,” he said. They stared at each other for a few seconds, and then rushed forward in sync, smashing their lips together.

Will moaned loudly, clinging to the doctor, unable to help himself. He’d dreamt about this moment for weeks, and now that it was actually happening…

Hannibal pulled away first, chest heaving. “Come to bed with me,” he demanded, eyes bright.

Will moved closer until their lips nearly touched. “Say _please._ ”

The doctor leaned towards him, but Will put a hand on his chest to hold him back. “ _Please, Will._ ”

He smiled, looking up at him through his eyelashes, and dragged a finger down Hannibal’s tie. “Alright, you can have me.”

Hannibal didn’t waste a moment, picking the smaller man up and throwing him over his shoulder as he jogged up the stairs.

Will let out a shout of protest, and then began laughing uncontrollably. “Hannibal! Put me down!”

The doctor didn’t reply. He marched into his bedroom and laid Will out on the silk sheets of his bed, before shutting the door behind him.

Will sat up, a little miffed, but too amused to complain. “How do you want to do this?”

“Pick a number between one and five,” Hannibal commanded as he lit some candles on a dresser, and then shut the curtains. Shadows danced across his face from the candlelight. Will thought he looked demonic, like a fallen angel.

He managed to get his tongue working, and stuttered out, “Uh…four?”

Hannibal nodded once, stripping off his tie. “That’s how many times you’ll be coming tonight.”

Will’s eyes widened, and he felt a hot spike of arousal jolt through him. “Christ,” he whispered. “Pretty ambitious, Doctor.”

Hannibal smirked as he finished removing his shirt, folding it up neatly and placing it on a nearby chair. “I’m more than capable of that, I assure you.”

The profiler’s breath hitched when he finally caught a glimpse of Hannibal’s bare chest. “I’m not sure _I_ am.”

“You’d be surprised. Lie back now.”

He obeyed, trying to pull his tie off with shaking fingers until Hannibal stopped him.

“Don’t move an inch. Just let me pleasure you,” he murmured huskily in Will’s ear.

The younger man moaned, throwing his head back as Hannibal began to strip him of his suit. He trembled as his chest was exposed to the air, the feeling conjuring up bad memories.

“Stay with me, Will,” Hannibal whispered, sensing his distress. He dragged his hands down Will’s sides, pressing his thumbs into his ribs. He closed his eyes, rapturous.

“What?” Will asked, noticing his expression.

“I had not expected this to happen so soon,” Hannibal confessed, looking down at him. “I’m worried it’s a dream.”

Will grinned, and casually reached around to pinch the doctor’s ass. He laughed out loud when Hannibal jumped and glared down at him. “What? You’re _supposed_ to pinch yourself if you’re not sure you’re dreaming.”

Hannibal just continued to give him a disapproving look, and Will’s face fell. “Come on, this is real. I’m not going anywhere.”

“I’m not sure _why,_ ” he said, making circles on Will’s ribcage with his thumbs. “I don’t understand why you are so accepting now that you know what I am.”

Will closed his eyes. He’d wondered about that himself. Sometime between watching Hannibal kill his would-be murderer and coming home from the hospital, he’d decided it didn’t matter anymore. He had a right to be happy, and he was happy with Hannibal.

He wrapped his arms around the doctor, bringing them closer. “ _We can forgive many flaws in those we love with all our hearts,_ ” he quoted.

Hannibal whimpered, holding him so tightly that Will was almost breathless by the time he let him go. The doctor’s eyes were wet, and a teardrop slid down his cheek as he took in the man laid out in front of him. “When did you fall in love with me?”

“I’m not sure,” he answered, reaching up to catch the tear on his fingertip. “Bit by bit, I suppose. Maybe when you told me you never thought I was broken. Maybe when you saved my life. Maybe when you took care of Abigail, though I’m pretty sure you’re the reason she almost died in the first place, and we _will_ be talking about that.” Will glared up at him half-heartedly as Hannibal smiled.

“I loved you from the moment I laid eyes on you. You are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.”

Will snickered, feeling guilty when Hannibal’s face fell. “Sorry, it’s just – after you killed Elijah, I couldn’t help but think that _you_ were the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.”

Hannibal’s eyes brightened again, expression turning mischievous. “By tomorrow morning, I will have corrected that assumption. Now, I believe we’re still wearing far too much clothing.”

They finished undressing – Hannibal folding his pants and briefs neatly and setting them on a chair, going so far as to roll up his socks. Will bunched his clothes up into a ball and sent them flying across the room with a carefree grin. They kneeled on the bed, eyes exploring each other’s bodies.

“You’re not circumcised,” Will noted, blushing a bit at his own tactlessness.

Hannibal smiled, taking himself in hand and pulling the foreskin back to reveal the bulging tip of his penis. “Have you ever been with an uncircumcised man, Will?”

He shook his head, eyes never leaving Hannibal’s…cock, his _cock._ Was he really doing this?

“Never been with _any_ man,” he admitted, swallowing the growing lump in his throat. “A few women in college. Some one-night-stands when I was a cop. The uniform was kind of a kink for them.”

Hannibal squeezed himself a little tighter, closing his eyes briefly. “You’ll have to show me sometime.”

Will coughed, blushing furiously. “I don’t have it anymore.”

“I’ll get you one.”

He ducked his head, embarrassed by how arousing the idea was. “I don’t know. Some of the guys in my precinct used to say I looked like a male stripper.”

“I’m sure they were simply jealous that you wore it better.” Hannibal reached out to lift his head, making eye contact. “Touch yourself. Show me what you like.”

God, he hadn’t masturbated in front of anyone, _ever._ He bit his lip, hesitant, but finally complied. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to prevent a moan from escaping.

Hannibal caressed his face, startling him into opening his eyes again. “Don’t be afraid to make noise. My home is sound-proof.”

The reason for the sound-proofing sprang into Will’s mind, and he found himself throwing his head back with a cry, his dick _throbbing._

“ _Fuck,_ ” he gasped, stroking faster, losing himself in his own pleasure. When Hannibal grabbed his wrist to stop him, he keened, looking at the man with his most pathetic puppy dog eyes.

Hannibal smirked at him, unfazed. “Lay down, spread your legs. _I’m_ the only one who’s allowed to make you come tonight, Will.”

His chest heaved as he moved to obey, digging his fingers into his calves to keep his legs apart. Every part of him felt sweaty and overheated. He couldn’t stop panting.

His eyes followed Hannibal as he reached into the bedside drawer. “Would you prefer to use a condom?” the doctor asked.

“I’m clean,” Will stated. “Got my bloodwork done at the hospital.”

“I have my blood checked routinely, and I always use condoms when engaging in intercourse.”

Will laughed breathlessly. “Can you sound any _more_ clinical, Doctor?”

“Use my name.”

Will almost acquiesced, but held back. He reached up and tangled his fingers into the doctor’s hair, pulling him down gently. “Only if you put your mouth on me…Hannibal.”

He didn’t have to be asked twice. He wrapped his hand around the base of Will’s cock, squeezing gently. His hand felt different from a woman’s – skin thicker and more calloused. Much larger as well.

Hannibal pressed his lips against the tip, looking up at Will with adoration, and then sunk down, pulling him deeper and deeper inside. He moved so smoothly, running his tongue along the veins and over the leaking slit.

Will arched up, digging his hand into Hannibal’s hair. “Oh, god! Oh, Christ! I – _fuck!_ ” A thought entered his mind: _This isn’t the first time Hannibal’s had human meat in his mouth tonight._ And then he was coming.

He gripped the bedsheets so hard his knuckles turned white, and threw his head from side to side as Hannibal swallowed him down, moaning as if _he_ were the one being pleasured.

“ _Mon amour. Incroyable,_ ” Will whispered huskily when his lover finally pulled away.

Hannibal smiled down at him, smug. “And here I thought _I_ would be the one forgetting English. Ah, well. The night is still young. One down, three to go.”

Will panted, wiping the sweat off his brow. “You _can’t_ be serious. I haven’t gone more than one round in years.”

Hannibal grinned, sharp teeth looking almost predatory in the candlelight. “I’ve always enjoyed pushing people to their limits. Now,” he began, taking a bottle of lubricant out of the drawer and spreading it over his fingers. “What were you thinking about that had you so worked up?”

Will flushed, feeling more humiliated when he realized the redness had spread down his chest as well. Hannibal’s eyes tracked it hungrily.

“I was thinking about dinner,” he blurted out, fighting the urge to curl up. He put his head back and covered his eyes with his arm. “How this wasn’t the _first_ time you put someone in your mouth tonight.”

Hannibal pulled his arm away and kissed him. “I’ll say this, you taste _much better._ ”

Will groaned, feeling Hannibal’s finger trail down past his cock, sliding in between his ass cheeks to circle his hole.

“What aroused you more? The fact that we were consuming human flesh, or the implied murder behind it?”

Will’s hips jerked, and he threw his head back, closing his eyes. “Oh, fuck! I’ve never–”

“Answer the question, Will,” Hannibal ordered, grabbing the younger man’s chin to hold his face still. “Look at me. Tell me what you liked.”

The profiler forced his eyes open, not even capable of becoming outraged at Hannibal’s smug expression. “The – the murder part,” he admitted, clenching down as the finger gently pressed its way inside him. “After you killed Elijah, I think I wanted you to kiss me right then.”

Hannibal hummed to himself, satisfied. He watched Will’s face carefully as he slid his finger in and out, slower and deeper each time.

“Oh! Oh, _Christ!_ Right there! I don’t – I can’t – _Hannibal!_ ” he whined as the doctor removed his finger, grabbing onto his biceps with trembling hands.

“Shh, Will. You’re almost ready,” Hannibal soothed. “Lift your legs up. Spread them as wide as you can.”

Confusion filled Will’s face even as he complied, holding the backs of his knees, and trying to contort himself so he could see what was happening. His shoulder started burning, and he was forced to relax his grip and collapse back down on the pillow. “Hannibal, what are y– _ohhhhh my god!_ ”

The doctor’s tongue snaked its way inside the squirming man, his hands spreading him wide and keeping his legs out of the way. Will clenched so tightly around his tongue that Hannibal could not stop himself from letting his mind wander to the near-future as he thought about how _good_ it would feel to be inside of him.

Will, for his part, could barely keep it together. His hips twitched erratically, completely out of his control as he tried to cope with the waves of unbridled _pleasure_ Hannibal was inflicting on him. He had never even _thought_ of doing something like this before. He saw it in porn from time to time, but it always seemed so unsanitary. He’d showered before he came over, but still…

_And now I’m being eaten out by a cannibal._

He keened, letting go of his right leg to wrap his hand around his cock, but just as his fingers brushed against it, Hannibal grabbed him, halting his ministrations in the process.

Actual _tears_ sprang into Will’s eyes as the pleasure stopped. “ _Hannibal!_ ” he whined, hips jerking upwards as he tried to touch himself with his other hand. That one was caught too, and Will panted shakily before finally opening his eyes to stare pleadingly at his lover.

Hannibal seemed to be the picture of control, if not for his obvious erection. He smirked down at Will, eyes alight with fiery reflections. “What did I say, Will? You’re not allowed to pleasure yourself tonight. That’s my job.”

Will whimpered, struggling weakly to get his hands free. “Please, I _need_ it, Hannibal. I can’t come just from – from _that._ ”

Hannibal leaned down to nibble on his earlobe. “Of course you can. You were so _close_ before,” he said gently.

Will jerked his hips up against the doctor, desperate for relief, but Hannibal pulled away with a soft laugh. “No, no, love. That comes later. Now, do I have to tie you up, or can you be a good boy for me?”

Those words made him tremble, and a hot flush spread across his face and down his chest. He shut his eyes tightly. “I don’t – _please_ – don’t tie me up,” he sputtered. Will could just _imagine_ how the doctor would take advantage of that, drawing out every orgasm as long as possible, until he was a shaking, mewling _mess._ Maybe one day they would try it, but right now Will wanted the freedom to run his hands through Hannibal’s hair. He wondered if handcuffs would be included with that uniform.

Hannibal cupped his face, dragging his thumbs over his cheeks to wipe the hot tears away. “You’ll be a good boy for me then?”

Will had a sneaking suspicion that if Hannibal kept calling him that, he wouldn’t even _need_ the doctor’s talented tongue to finish him off. This wasn’t the best time to start exploring new kinks, though. He’d have plenty of opportunities to figure that out later.

Just for a little revenge, he tossed his head back and moaned obscenely loud, writhing against the bedsheets. “Oh, please! I’ll be _such_ a good boy for you! _Pretty please!_ I want you to make me come again!”

Hannibal growled, sounding almost inhuman, and pressed his teeth against Will’s jaw. “You make me want to _devour_ you.”

Will opened one eye, smirking triumphantly. “Then hop to it, _cher._ ”

Hannibal nipped at his chin, and then dragged his lips lower and lower, swiping his tongue over his chest and stomach. He intentionally ignored Will’s dripping cock, making the younger man groan, and spread him wide again to expose his hole.

“No touching, love, or I _will_ tie you up,” he warned, and then went back to work.

Will tossed his head back and forth, eyes rolling as he searched for something to distract himself. His legs trembled with the effort of keeping them apart, and he grabbed onto them, digging his nails in hard enough to leave welts.

Hannibal moaned, his hips jutting as his tongue reached its deepest point. He slathered his fingers with lubricant, and slid two of them in alongside his tongue. Will arched up as he felt himself being stretched, and his trembling increased.

“Oh, god, _please. Ha-annibal!_ I’m gonna – so _good._ ” He ran his hands up and down his thighs, keeping them parted. Prying his eyes open took effort, but seeing Hannibal’s head between his legs was more arousing than he expected. His cock twitched, pulsing with blood. He imagined how amazing it would feel to wrap his hand around it, and had to restrain himself from doing just that. His hands curled into fists as he caught Hannibal’s eyes, and he moved them to grip the bedsheets deliberately.

Hannibal pulled his mouth away for a moment, breathing heavily and licking his lips. His fingers kept up their persistent motions inside of him. “My darling Will, you taste _delicious,_ ” he said wickedly, before inserting his tongue once more.

Like that, Will’s second orgasm swept over him. He shuddered, feeling spurts of semen land on his stomach and chest. His mouth fell open and his eyelids fluttered. Hannibal pulled away to observe, but his fingers continued their lazy thrusts a moment longer.

When it was over, the doctor left for the ensuite bathroom. Will heard running water for a moment, and a distant scratching sound. He shifted on the bed, feeling warm and sated in a way he’d never felt before.

He lay there, placid and half-asleep. The feeling of a wet cloth on his chest made him moan weakly as Hannibal started to clean him up. Once he was finished, he deliberately settled on top of him, his cock pressing against Will’s stretched hole.

“It’s not over yet, love,” Hannibal reminded him, planting a kiss on his lips so deep that Will could taste the minty flavour of his toothpaste. “You’re halfway there, though.”

Will whined, squirming beneath the larger man. “I-I _can’t._ ” He looked up at Hannibal beseechingly.

The doctor stared at him, eyes softening. “Do you want to stop?” he asked gently, brushing Will’s hair back off his sweaty forehead.

Will almost nodded, but instead shut his eyes and took a deep breath. “No, just…promise you won’t hurt me.”

“ _Never,_ ” Hannibal vowed, planting another kiss on his lips. “I’ll never hurt you, not unless you ask me to.”

Will took another deep breath, and spread his legs a little wider. “Okay, but…” He pried his eyelids open again. “Next time _I_ get to fuck _you,_ ” he declared.

Hannibal grinned. “That’s the grand finale.”

With that buzzing around his brain, Will barely noticed as Hannibal slicked himself up, and only when he felt the bulging head of his cock sinking inside of him did he finally register what was happening.

His first instinct was to clench, and Hannibal moaned, reaching down to tweak at his nipples. Will gasped, muscles rippling, and Hannibal pushed in until he was completely engulfed. Will placed his hand on his stomach, wondering if he could feel the man moving inside him if he pressed down hard enough. It didn’t hurt at least, but it wasn’t as pleasant as what Hannibal was doing before.

The doctor pressed his face into Will’s neck, leaving biting kisses all over it. “ _Mylimasis,_ ” he gasped, pulling back and then surging forward again at a different angle several times until…

“ _Oh!_ ” _There_ it was. Will’s mouth hung open as he reached up to claw at the doctor’s back, wrapping his legs around his hips as he arched off the bed, seeking that pleasurable feeling once again. By some miracle he was hard again, although he doubted he had any semen _left_ at this point.

A sense of vertigo nearly sent him toppling over as Hannibal suddenly sat up, and then pulled Will on top of him as he lied back. Will put his hands on Hannibal’s chest to stay balanced, and looked at him in confusion.

“I want you to ride me, darling,” Hannibal said huskily, putting his hands on Will’s hips. “Be as rough as you like.”

The new position offered new angles, and Will moved around until he found the perfect one, then did as Hannibal requested, tossing his head back and digging his nails into the doctor’s hips as Hannibal moved his hands up and down Will’s chest, rubbing over his nipples until they ached from overstimulation.

“You k-k-killed Cassie Boyle, didn’t you?” he gasped, feeling his balls tighten in anticipation. Three times in one night. Maybe Hannibal wasn’t kidding about what he was capable of.

“Yes,” Hannibal answered, eyes never leaving Will’s face. He was restraining himself from coming just yet. The wait was torturous, but oh so delightful.

Will moaned, forcing himself to meet the doctor’s eyes. “You killed her for me, so I would be able to save Abigail.”

Hannibal smiled, thrusting to hit the perfect spot inside his lover. “I also fed you her lungs. You need to eat more, Will. Can’t have you wasting away.”

“ _Oh, god!_ ” he cried, feeling every muscle start to tighten. He was so close. “Keep talking. Describe how she died,” he ordered, passed the point of caring that he was getting off on the details of a horrific murder.

Hannibal squeezed one of his nipples, making Will whimper. He reached for the tormenting fingers and pulled them up to his mouth, wrapping his lips around one of them with a moan. Hannibal moved it around, tracing the inside of his teeth and pushing down his tongue before inserting a second one. He thrust them in and out in time with Will’s desperate movements, and licked his lips. “I abducted her from her car, strangled her until she passed out, and then took her to my basement.”

Will moaned, unable to form any words. Hannibal got the message, though, and continued.

“Before she awoke, I strapped her to a gurney and gagged her. She struggled so beautifully, squirming and shrieking behind the gag when she realized what I had planned for her.”

Will reached up, pulling the fingers from his mouth for a moment. “Why did you pick her? Is it because she looked like the other girls?” He allowed the fingers to thrust back into his mouth, nearly slobbering over them by now. Was it normal for a person’s skin to _taste good?_

Hannibal grinned, tilting his hips again to make Will moan. “She was already on my list, but I did choose her specifically because of her appearance. I saw her several months earlier, berating a young cashier for not accepting an expired coupon. The poor girl was nearly in tears by the time she finished. And such _language._ There were three children nearby who had to listen to her obscenities. Their mothers were horrified. I remember one of them ran to get a manager, but Ms. Boyle had already left by the time she returned.”

Will choked on a laugh as he pulled Hannibal’s fingers out of his mouth again. “You killed her because she was _rude?_ ”

The doctor’s expression hardened. “Rudeness is unspeakably ugly to me.”

“And yet you think _I’m_ beautiful,” he pointed out, grinning at the irony.

“Your rudeness is a defence mechanism. You use it to push people away, keep them at arm’s length so they won’t see the monster you hide underneath.” Hannibal sat up abruptly, keeping Will in his lap as he thrust into him in a frenzied pace. Their eyes met, and Will couldn’t look away, drawn into the red flecks hiding inside the warm brown of his irises.

“I have _seen_ that monster, Will,” Hannibal stated in a hushed voice. “And it is _beautiful._ ”

For the third time that night, Will came, only this time, Hannibal followed. They clawed at each other, thrusting and grunting, their mouths smashing together until they began to tire. Collapsing on the bed side-by-side, they stayed tangled up until Will felt the foreign sensation of semen dripping down his thighs and grimaced. “I’m a mess.”

“You’re _gorgeous,_ ” Hannibal insisted, surging inside him one once more just for the pleasure of hearing Will gasp before finally pulling out. He fetched the washcloth again, and Will luxuriated under his gentle touch as he was cleaned.

“I don’t think I can move right now,” Will confessed giddily. His eyes kept sliding shut.

Hannibal climbed back into bed, snuggling up against him and planting a kiss on his throat. “We can rest for now, but I have a surprise for you later.”

Will didn’t respond, exhaustion finally taking its toll on him as he curled up in his lover’s arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *fanning self* Woo! Finally!
> 
> Yes, Will absolutely gushes about his dogs to anyone who will listen, and yes, he totally slips into French when he's in bed. It is the language of love after all. Also, Power Bottom Will - blame DarkDreamsOfHannigram. I've been corrupted.
> 
> And, yes, I did get some inspiration for a bit of the dialogue from a certain gifset I've seen on Tumblr, which I may or may not have reblogged recently.
> 
> Adieu, my faithful readers.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys! I'm running on about four hours of sleep, so I figured I might as well post this while I'm still semi-conscious.
> 
> WARNING! More torture in this chapter, thought Will's not the one getting hurt this time.
> 
> Enjoy!

A clinking sound roused Will from a restful sleep. He sat up, stretching his arms to the ceiling, and opened his eyes to find Hannibal sitting on a chair next to the bed, already dressed and with a plate full of bacon, eggs, and toast in his lap.

“Breakfast in bed?” he asked, utterly immodest as he pushed the blanket away and reached for a fork.

Hannibal’s eyes trailed down his naked body as he eagerly wolfed down his breakfast. Will smirked, spreading his legs a bit wider as he leaned forward to grab a slice of toast. “Like what you see, Doctor?”

“Always,” Hannibal answered, setting the plate down after grabbing a slice of toast for himself. “I normally abhor eating in bed, but I couldn’t bring myself to wake you.”

Will smiled, stretching again just for the pleasure of watching Hannibal’s attention wander over him. “Thanks. I needed that. Don’t think I’ve _ever_ had a night like that before.”

“The night isn’t over yet,” Hannibal stated, smirking. “I have a surprise for you, and I promised you one more orgasm before morning.”

Will blinked, realizing that there was no sunlight streaming in through the blinds. “Jesus, Hannibal! Did you even sleep?”

“For a few hours, but it’s fine. I have no appointments today, and we can go back to bed anytime if necessary.” He eyed his lover once more before sighing. “Regretfully, I have to ask you to get dressed.”

Will smirked, but accepted the clean clothes that were handed to him, seeing no point in leaving the room as he put them on. He found he quite enjoyed the tortured expression on Hannibal’s face as his body was hidden from him.

He stretched again, noting that the clothes he had on were a bit worn. Strange considering Hannibal’s usual tastes, but they were soft and comfortable, so maybe it was more for Will’s benefit.

“Perfect,” Hannibal said, smoothing down his shirt. “Come with me.”

Will followed, relishing the deep-seated ache as he walked down the stairs. He should’ve known Hannibal never did anything half-assed, including making love. He’d be walking funny for days.

Hannibal led him into the kitchen, and then to the pantry where he proceeded to lift up the floorboards, revealing a set of stairs. The doctor smiled reassuringly, looking almost eager as he climbed down into a dim basement, Will trailing behind him cautiously.

A banging sound caught him off guard, and he looked up, shock making him freeze in place.

There was a person down there – a man. Will recognized him immediately, and took a step forward, not quite sure how he should feel.

Hannibal put his hands on his shoulders and whispered in his ear, “ _Surprise!_ ”

Marshall Weber groaned miserably, pulling at the chains around his wrists as he tried to escape from the gurney he was tied to. He was stripped down to his boxers and shivering from the cold. His eyes rolled around in his head until they settled on Will, and the profiler saw recognition flash in them, along with a surprisingly pleasing amount of fear.

Will looked to Hannibal, equal parts confused and wary, only for the doctor to hold out a scalpel with a sinister smile on his face. “I’ve wanted to kill him for weeks, but I decided to let _you_ do the honours.”

Will gulped as he stared at it, overwhelmingly tempted. With Garret Jacob Hobbs, it had been too quick. He’d hardly had time to process what was going on before he started shooting, but he still remembered that sprig of zest that went through him when Hobbs finally died. The thought of feeling that again was almost irresistible.

He tried to clutch at the last vestiges of reason. “Won’t that be too suspicious? He was questioned for murder not long ago, and Jack knows about what he tried to do to me.”

Hannibal took his hand, pressing the scalpel into his palm, and smiled as Will’s fingers curled around the blade instinctively. “Don’t worry. As far as everyone is concerned, he got a job in South America and has no plans to return to America. No one will ever suspect a thing.”

Will’s breath hitched, and then he was panting again, anticipation building. Hannibal’s eyes seemed to shine in the dim light as he gazed upon him.

“How should I–” He licked him lips, hand shaking as he stared at the glimmering scalpel. “What if I can’t do it?”

Hannibal put his hand over Will’s so they were both grasping the weapon. “Then we’ll do it together.” He reached over, lifting the younger man’s chin up firmly to stare into his eyes. “He wanted to hurt you, Will, and I cannot allow that transgression to go unpunished.”

Will hesitated a moment, then nodded shakily. “Alright,” he said, putting his other hand over Hannibal’s. “Help me do it.”

They walked to the restrained photographer hand-in-hand, and Hannibal traced a line on Weber’s torso with his finger. “If we plunge the scalpel here, under the ribcage, it will pierce his heart and he’ll die very quickly.”

Weber moaned, wide-eyed, and looked up at Will with pleading eyes.

For a moment, he wavered, but then he remembered the model from all those years ago, crying and covered in bruises, and his expression hardened.

“Wait,” he ordered, just as Hannibal tightened his grip. “I want to do something first.”

Hannibal gave him a searching look, but let go and took a step back, watching him carefully.

Will sucked in a breath through his nose and reached for the photographer’s boxers.

Weber’s eyes widened again, and he shrieked behind his gag as Will sliced cleanly through the base of his penis.

Will held it up for him to see, dispassionate as Weber howled and clawed at his restraints, no doubt making all sorts of threats behind the gag.

“Huh, hardly seems worth it. I guess you really did have a _lot_ to compensate for,” he taunted, dropping Weber’s amputated penis back onto the gurney and wiping his hand off on his pants.

Hannibal laughed softly, returning to his side with a wicked grin on his face as he wrapped his hand around Will’s once more. “Shall we?” he asked, positioning the scalpel.

Will turned his head and kissed him, reaching up to pull at the doctor’s hair. He hardly noticed as the scalpel thrust forward, Hannibal twisting it inside Weber’s chest, slicing cleanly through his lungs and heart.

Weber gurgled, and Will turned back to watch, pulling the scalpel out and leaning over the dying man as blood gushed out of the wound, splattering on his clothes. Curiosity made him cruel, and he plunged his hand into the incision, tearing it wide open, and squeezed the photographer’s heart until it finally stilled.

For a moment, the only sound in the room was Will’s heavy breathing, and then he _lunged_ at Hannibal, pushing him against the stone wall and kissing him desperately. His hand left bloodstains on the doctor’s suit, but neither of them noticed, and both were too painfully aroused to care. Will ripped his shirt off, suddenly understanding the need for worn clothes, and Hannibal followed him swiftly until they were both naked and covered in blood.

“I want you inside me, Will,” the doctor commanded, reaching out to pull his lover close. “Right now.”

Will groaned, rubbing against him mindlessly. “Don’t I have to… _prepare_ you first?”

“I prepared myself before I made breakfast,” he responded. “Get inside me. Now.”

Will didn’t need to be told twice, and as he sank into that tight, warm heat, he looked up at Hannibal with tears in his eyes.

“ _I love you,_ ” he breathed, catching the older man off-guard.

Hannibal looked at him like he would die if Will ever took those words back, and as they kissed again, Will raked his bloodstained hand through Hannibal’s hair. The doctor’s back was starting to get rather scraped up, but he hardly noticed.

“ _Will,_ ” he whispered, rapturous. “I love you. I need you. I will kill anyone who tries to take you away from me.”

Will groaned again, and reached down to wrap his hand around Hannibal’s leaking cock. “I want you to come. I want to feel you clench around me.”

Hannibal complied immediately, and it nearly brought Will to his knees. His own orgasm was almost too much to bear, and Hannibal was forced to grab him to keep them both from toppling over. They leaned against the wall, naked and panting, until their sweat-slicked bodies started to shiver from the cool air and they were forced to separate.

Will looked around and laughed breathlessly. “God, what a mess! You must be so disappointed.”

Hannibal pressed his lips to Will’s throat. “Not even a little. We’ll have plenty of opportunity to improve your technique in the future.”

Will moaned, throwing his head back against the wall as his knees buckled. “Jesus, Hannibal! You trying to go for five?”

The doctor smirked. “I wouldn’t be opposed to it, but we really should get dressed. You’re shivering, love.”

“I don’t suppose you brought some spare clothes? Mine are kind of covered in blood.”

Hannibal huffed out a laugh and pulled Will to a small room off to the side. He opened the door, revealing a clothing rack stocked with various outfits, and a mini-bathroom with a small, frosted-glass shower. “There are cleaning products under the sink. It will be less time-consuming to scrub the floor before we shower.”

“Not exactly the most glamourous part about being a serial killer.”

“We all have to make sacrifices. Now, grab a mop.”

 

After they finished cleaning up – and extracted Weber’s lungs for dinner – Hannibal wrapped his body in a plastic sheet, and Will helped him tuck it into an enormous freezer for safe-keeping.

They were soaked and smelt of bleach, so they hurried into the shower and turned the hot water on full-blast. Hannibal wrapped himself around Will’s shivering form, peppering his neck with kisses as the water heated up and steam fogged the glass. Once it reached a suitable temperature, he dabbed some soap on a pastel-green loofah mitt – much to Will’s amusement – and began scrubbing the blood off his lover.

Aside from rubbing in between his thighs much more than strictly necessary, Hannibal completed the task with expert skill before doing the same to himself as Will washed his hair.

“I could get used to this,” Will muttered as Hannibal rinsed the shampoo out of his own hair and shut the water off.

A drop of water slid off his nose as he bent over to pick up the towels. “Dry off quickly now, before you catch cold.”

Will followed his instruction, spending most of his time on his hair. He pulled the towel off his head in time to catch Hannibal’s amused glance, and held up a finger. “Don’t you dare say anything,” he warned.

Hannibal smirked. “Wouldn’t dream of it, love. There’s a comb in the drawer.”

Will shoved him playfully and grabbed it, then spent the next minute fruitlessly trying to untangle his curls.

“Come now, there’s no need to pull your hair out like that,” the older man said, gently prying the comb from Will’s hand. He’d already slipped into a new three-piece, and had a navy button-up shirt and black dress pants in a pile for Will. “Get dressed. I’ll brush your hair.”

Will opened his mouth to protest, but then shut it again, shaking his head as he pulled on his boxers and the new pants. He slid the shirt on, but didn’t bother with the buttons just yet.

Hannibal patted the countertop. “Sit here,” he ordered, and Will obliged, ducking his head a little as Hannibal grasped a lock of his hair and began untangling it bit by bit.

After a moment, his eyes slid shut, and he allowed himself to bask in the feeling of being cared for. It had been a long time since anyone had really bothered to look after him like that.

“I love your hair,” Hannibal said, interrupting his thoughts.

Will slowly opened his eyes and gave the doctor a lazy smile. “Most people do. Elijah loved styling…” he trailed off, frowning as a strange sensation not unlike grief welled up in him. “Is it wrong that I miss him, even after what he did to me?”

“He was your friend,” Hannibal stated, finishing with his hair, but still smoothing it out with his hands. “I do not regret killing him, but I _do_ feel sorry that you lost someone you cared about.”

“He was going to kill me,” Will stated, more for himself than for the doctor. “He probably would’ve raped me too, if you hadn’t stopped him.” He shrugged, hopping off the counter and running a hand through his curls. “Still, you’re right. He was my friend.” He smiled painfully. “How sad it that? My only friends both turned out to be murderers.”

Hannibal smiled back. “Am I your friend now?”

Will scoffed. “Among other things.”

“Perhaps something about you is appealing to monsters.”

He rolled his eyes, heading back to the stairs. “Oh, I’m appealing to a lot more than monsters.”

Hannibal followed, trailing after him with a smile that wouldn’t cease. “Jack had a difficult time believing you were really a model at one point. I almost considered killing him for that.”

Will glared down at him. “Don’t kill Jack. He’s not a bad guy. He’s just an asshole sometimes.”

“It was a passing thought. I’ve actually been thinking about a way to help him solve the case of the Chesapeake Ripper.”

They made it into the kitchen before Will gave up, fixing Hannibal with a glare as the man smirked down at him. “You going to explain that? I can’t see you turning yourself in.”

“I _have_ made a few contingency plans.”

Will raised an eyebrow. “Well, do feel free to share them, Doctor.”

“Do you know who Miriam Lass is?”

The profiler froze, his mind flashing back to the piles of reports Jack had him reading through. “She was a student at Quantico. She tried to track you down.” He blinked. “She succeeded?” He asked.

“She was very intuitive,” Hannibal replied. “Still is, actually.”

It took a moment for the implications of those words to set in. “She’s alive?”

Hannibal was practically preening. “And perfectly healthy, though her mental status is slightly questionable at this point. Originally I only kept her to ascertain what the FBI knew about me, but I’ve grown somewhat fond of her.” He smirked. “I’ve done a few experiments: inducing blackouts, tampering with her memories, planting suggestions in her head. It shouldn’t take more than a month or so to convince her that she knows the identity of the Chesapeake Ripper, and it certainly won’t be _me_ she’ll be pointing fingers at.”

Will couldn’t quite repress a frown. A part of him felt a deep sense of pity for the poor woman. “So, what? You’re going to set her loose? What if she remembers the truth?”

“She won’t,” Hannibal said, perfectly confident. “I’ve already begun making arrangements. Even if Miriam grows to doubt her own mind, cold, hard evidence will be enough to persuade her. And it will be enough to persuade Jack as well.”

“And what exactly will this _evidence_ tell them?”

“That Dr. Donald Sutcliffe is the one she went to interview the day she disappeared.”

“Who?” Will asked, brow wrinkling.

“An old classmate of mine,” Hannibal told him. He approached with a smile and put his hand on Will’s lower back. “Let’s have a drink in the study. I’m feeling rather parched.”

 

**Three Months Later**

_Ripper Revealed!_

Will rolled his eyes at the headline, but felt a knot of tension release as he read on.

“Would you like me to move?” Hannibal asked, turning in his seat to arch an eyebrow at the profiler slumped over the back of the couch reading over his shoulder. They were in the living room of their home in France. The country was more tolerant towards their relationship than his first choice of Italy, but he held out hope that one day they would visit there as well. He’d love to see Will and Inspector Pazzi interact.

Will rolled his eyes again. “Can’t believe _Tattle Crime_ managed to get those pictures. You’re _sure_ you cleaned up any evidence?”

“Nothing left behind will lead them to me,” Hannibal reassured him for the third time. “It’s over.”

Will stared at the picture of Miriam Lass, her eyes haunted and her hands covered in Donald Sutcliffe’s blood. “Think she’ll be alright?”

The doctor closed his laptop firmly. “With some therapy she should be able to get her life back. I expect Jack Crawford will do everything in his power to help her.”

Will nodded, and then he caught sight of an envelope on the coffee table. His face lit up. “Is that from Abigail?”

“I believe so.”

Will hopped over the couch, blatantly ignoring the half-hearted glare Hannibal sent his way, and scooped it up before collapsing into a chair. He reached for the letter-opener on the end table and slid it carefully through the envelope.

The letter inside was two pages long, and several pictures that were tucked away inside fell onto his lap. He picked one up, raising his eyebrow at the faces peering back at him, before he quickly read through the letter.

Winston came over, tail wagging as he sniffed at the familiar scent on the paper, and Will reached over to scratch him behind the ears.

He groaned. “ _Oh, God,_ she thinks she’s in love,” he informed Hannibal with a grimace, throwing one of the pictures to him. “Anton Holm. Apparently he’s _adorable and Swedish,_ and he likes camping and hunting.” He shook his head. “How long has she been gone?”

“Twenty-two days,” Hannibal replied, scrutinizing the photograph, specifically the dimple-faced blond boy with his arm around Abigail’s shoulders. The girl was laughing, her eyes half-shut as she looked up at the boy next to her. “She seems happy.”

“She wants to bring him home for dinner next week,” Will continued, reading through the letter again.

Winston nuzzled at his knee before catching sight of a squirrel outside and racing out through the doggy door to chase it. The rest of the pack followed swiftly, and Hannibal sighed under his breath as their yelps and barks grew more distant.

Will dropped the letter and rubbed at his temples, his face pinched as a tension headache started to overwhelm him. “How did this happen? Why did we let her go? What kind of parents let their traumatized daughter go backpacking across Europe?”

“She needed some time. _We_ needed some time as well.” Hannibal smiled at the grumpy man. “I think it’s a splendid idea.”

Will scoffed. “You would. Anything to let you show off.”

“I find intimidation works best when you are in the same room as your victim,” he replied, taking a sip of his wine.

The profiler paused, thinking. “Fine,” he consented. “But if he’s just stringing her along, we kill him.”

Hannibal smiled. “Of course. I’m already thinking up recipes.”

Will nodded slowly, peeking at him through his hair. “Are we…ever going to talk about that? The cannibalism thing?”

Hannibal crossed his legs, getting into his psychiatrist-pose. “Would you like to?”

“Well, I just…I don’t mean I want you to _stop._ If it’s something you need to do – like a compulsion or something – then it’s fine by me. I don’t mind it.”

“I’m perfectly aware that it’s unorthodox, even in the realm of serial killers, but it’s just something I enjoy. I could stop killing as well.”

Will snickered. “Well, _now_ you sound like my dad. ‘I can quit drinking anytime I want.’” His smile dimmed. “He never did admit how wrong he was, even near the end.”

“I’ve gone years without killing, love, and it never caused any _cravings._ True, it annoyed me that there were so many irritating people that I couldn’t¬¬ deal with permanently, but I managed perfectly well. I could do it again if you’re truly worried.”

Will shook his head, closing his eyes with a sigh. “Nah, it’s fine. It’s just, if something happens…if you get caught, what do I do?”

“Wait until I break out of prison, or you could assist me in breaking out. Having an extra pair of hands would make the process go much smoother.”

Will looked at him in time to catch Hannibal’s eyes alight with humour, and couldn’t quite repress a smile. “I’m _serious!_ ” he complained. “What am I supposed to do without you?”

Hannibal got up off the couch and kneeled by Will’s side. He took his hand, cradling it as if it would break if he held on too tightly. “Nothing is going to happen to me, Will. The Chesapeake Ripper is dead. There is no evidence to tie me to him.” He leaned in to plant a kiss on Will’s lips. “I’m safe.”

Will’s eyes fluttered shut. He nodded slowly, letting himself believe – _finally_ – that everything was going to be alright.

Hannibal’s plan had been simple yet elegant, as always. He’d spent over a month _programming_ Miriam Lass with false memories of her captor’s voice, as well as a few _new impulses._ He’d left her in an isolated cabin, tied to a bed, though not as efficiently as per usual, so when Donald Sutcliffe arrived for his annual summer vacation to that very cabin, he was eviscerated with what would later be proven to be his own surgical scalpel.

After that, it was a simple matter of her using his cellphone to dial 911 to alert the authorities. _Tattle Crime_ mentioned that she’d admitted herself into an institution that largely dealt with POWs, and considering the circumstances, it was unlikely she would be charged for what she did to Sutcliffe, especially not since the FBI found a human liver in the neurosurgeon’s freezer.

All in all, it seemed clear to everyone that the Ripper’s reign was over for good.

“I love you,” Hannibal whispered, breaking Will out of his thoughts.

Warmth fill him at the sound of those words, and opened his eyes again. It didn’t escape his notice that Hannibal was still kneeling, only he’d shifted onto one knee. Will’s gaze wandered from his face to his hand, which now held a navy blue, velvet box.

“Are you fucking with me?” he squeaked, already knowing where this was going. He jerked up in his seat, staring at the box as if it was a bomb.

Hannibal gave him a rakish grin. “Not at the moment, but I wouldn’t be opposed to doing so later tonight – perhaps every night for the rest of our lives if you’d agree.”

Will laughed breathlessly. “You asshole. Get up here.” Hannibal obeyed, leaning over Will as he pulled him in for a kiss.

Finally, Will took the box and opened it, staring at the ring inside. Hannibal plucked it out and slid it onto his finger. It fit perfectly of course, and Will had no doubt that those were real sapphires.

After a moment of staring at the new piece of jewellery, Will groaned. “Oh, God. This means we’re going to have a _wedding party,_ doesn’t it?”

Hannibal was quick to reassure him. “I will handle everything. All you need to do is show up and look beautiful.”

Will’s smile came easily. “ _That_ I know how to do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *heart eyes* Awww! They're engaged. I'm not one for writing domestic bliss, but that's basically how it goes. Hannibal's frame-up worked wonders, Miriam still has both arms and will get back on her feet soon enough, and Abigail's found herself a boyfriend. (Don't worry, he's a nice kid. No need for Hannibal's recipes.) Everybody's happy!
> 
> Now, I'm going to go read over my first draft of Mania and add up how many times Will cries.
> 
> Adieu, my faithful readers.

**Author's Note:**

> Here's my Tumblr - https://gweezle.tumblr.com/ - if you want to see the pictures of Baby Hugh that I'm totally just using for research.
> 
> Adieu, my faithful readers.


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